


The Holy See of Ishgard University

by VennReverie



Series: The Holy See of Ishgard University [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alphinaud has a crush on the WoL because of course he does, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Alternative Lifestyles, Drama & Romance, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Heavy Haurchefant/WoL friendship fluff because they are wonderful, Jealousy, Multi-Classed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Mutual Pining, Now with much added Alphinaud wholesome times with the WoL, Okay there finally is a kiss btw, Pining, Romantic Fluff, Slice of Life, Slooooooooooooooow burn, Slow Burn, TERM HAS STARTED BACK UP BBY, They haven't even held hands yet I'm sorry, Wholesome comedy of Professors and students, fluffy slice of life, no beta we die like men, ok scratch that they've FINALLY held hands, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2020-09-05 15:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 65,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VennReverie/pseuds/VennReverie
Summary: The University of The Holy See Ishgard was a grand specimen of Ishgardian architecture. Nestled within the city’s backdrop of steely spires and grey rooftops, it was considered the finest place of education, to even rival that of the Sharlayan Studium itself.Newly joining its academic ranks of faculty, The Warrior of Light, descendant from a lineage of her predecessors, now teaches as a Professor within the great walls of the Holy See, encountering various members of staff along the way in her burgeoning career as an educator.A series of moments, chapters of the WoL and our favourite Ishgard elezens (as well as other characters) teaching as Professors in an AU University! Enjoy! Ultimately a WoL/Aymeric love story too!





	1. Parchments and Pleasantries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Introducing Professor de Borel and a rather mischievous and excitable Professor Greystone._

The smell of candle wax and old wood filled the air, fresh sheets of parchment rustled as students shuffled their notes. Tomes tickled by motes of dust creaked under the weight of the knowledge they contained, bounded by leather that cracked at the spine. 

A late afternoon sun spilled through the back of the lecture theatre, casting rays of dull wintery light across the backs of those in attendance. The rose teak wood shone in the daylight, the tiered levels tapering down to the front of the theatre where a tall, elezen figure stood.

A smooth, rolling sultry voice filled the air of the chamber, echoing in bassy silken notes. 

“... and that concludes the first part of Dravanian history in the Dragonsong War, establishing the main figures who instigated it, weaving their tales into the long rich tapestry that is Ishgardian’s political history with the Dravanian Horde…” 

In the distance, a bell tolled, metallic and deep as it reverberated throughout the halls of the university. 

Gently, Professor de Borel removed his reading glasses with slender fingers, delicately placing them down upon the ochre aged pages of the tome he had been reading from. 

He looked up, his piercing blue eyes catching the light and he cast a long kind smile at his students as they began to hastily pack away their belongings. 

“Don’t forget to read chapters two to five of _Ishgard, a History_ before the end of the week.” He called formally. “Essays on the current political climate of Ishgard today is due by the end of this week too!” __

_ _As the final student filed out of the theatre, the grand oak doors clicked shut, leaving him alone. A moment to contemplate his schedule for the rest of his day._ _

_ _Sweeping a hand through his thick raven hair he leaned upon the lectern, heaving a long satisfied sigh. His eyes scanned over the pile of papers that had been set next to him, a stack of essays from his students. He inhaled again sharply. _ _

_ _“Some tea will be most required.” He said, smiling to himself. _ _

_ _

_ _\--- _ _

_ _

_ _Slipping a hand between the piece of silken cloth on his desk, Aymeric gently wiped the remnants of ink off his fingers that had splotched his skin as he marked another essay. _ _

_ _He could feel weariness tugging gently at the bottom of his eyes, urging him to stop staring at scrawls of letters. Sliding his hands up under his glasses he rubbed his eyelids carefully and looked up for the first time in a while from his work. _ _

_ _A cool faded air had filled his office, he realised he had been working in the dim light of early evening. Outside a faint orange glow of lanterns emanated from the courtyards of the university below. Embers of a dying fire crackled faintly, thin slithers of orange light illuminated the bookshelves that towered around the walls, some stray books sat abandoned on the armchair by the fireplace. _ _

_ _Leaning over his desk he clicked the catch on the oil lamp by his desk, a small flame flickered to life as aether ignited it. He nestled his head into his hands again as he took a sip of his tea, turning over another crisp page of parchment to assess the next essay. _ _

_ _In that moment the door to his office burst open, and Professor Greystone waltzed into the room, an ornate box held in one hand. _ _

_ _“By the Fury Aymeric, do you oft work in such dim conditions?” Exclaimed the elezen, who immediately strode over to the fire place to stoke it back into energetic life, as he leaned his silvery hair fell across his eyes. _ _

_ _Aymeric looked up, glancing through fingers that were resting against his temples, framing his face. _ _

_ _“Ah Haurchefant, full glad am I to see you.” Aymeric said, greeting him with a tired smile. “What brings you to my office on this early eve?” _ _

_ _Icy blue eyes lit up, pulled taut by his eyebrows as he raised them in excitement at Aymeric. He danced over to his desk, placing a box of delicate pastries upon a teetering pile of papers and books. It swayed slightly and he flailed his hands to steady it. Aymeric watched him with great interest. _ _

_ _“My dear friend you_must_ try these.” He said, brimming with excitement. “The finest bakery in Ishgard made these, custom for a rather splendid tea I am hosting for a dear friend on the morrow.” _ _

_ _“Tea? Do you not have classes to teach tomorrow my friend?” Aymeric questioned, raising an eyebrow and removing his glasses, leaning his head back, closing his eyes to give himself a moment’s respite from coursework. _ _

_ _“I do indeed, but something more important calls to my attention. In particular a new Professor will be joining our finest academic ranks of faculty-- Ah Aymeric your tea is cold, may I--”_ _

_ _His eyes remained shut as the clattering of porcelain clinked near his ears, the fresh smell of hot tea, Ishgardians finest black blend rose to meet his nostrils as a fresh cup was placed down in front of him. He thanked Haurchefant, letting his lidded eyes open slightly, watching his friend sink into the chair in front of his desk, clutching his own cup. _ _

_ _Aymeric raised the cup to his lips, blowing gently then taking a long sip. Sweetness laced itself through his tongue, cutting through the heavy, earthy notes of tea leaves and he closed his eyes in bliss. Haurchefant had remembered the birch syrup. He sighed in appreciation. _ _

_ _“As I was saying, a dear friend of mine has agreed to teach here, something father is much pleased about, given her title and lineage.” Haurchefant’s voice trembled with untammable elation. “I cannot contain how excited I am a this prospect. No longer will we speak in letters and brief meetings, but she will take residence in Ishgard and teach here-” his voice trailed off as he stared longingly past Aymeric, who was now gazing at him with deep regard. _ _

_ _“And _who_, pray tell are we speaking of here?” Aymeric questioned, his smooth voice inquisitive as he tried to imagine friends and companions Haurchefant has waxed lyrical of fondly in the past. _ _

_ _Professor Greystone leaned back in his chest, taking a deep sip of tea, looking at Aymeric through eyelashes with a faint glimmer of mischief that sparked through his expression as he smiled. _ _

_ _“Why none other than the Warrior of Light herself my dear Aymeric.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a big fan of writing the WoL/Haurchefant as being really close friends given how he acts towards the WoL in general in Heavensward! 
> 
> I'm pretty excited to start writing this and I hope you all enjoy it too!


	2. Acquaintances and Inebriations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Something jolted in his mind, his numbed, not-thinking-clearly mind. Somewhere, words, a summoning spell, splayed themselves like instructions across the inside of his thoughts:_
> 
> _You promised Haurchefant you would formally introduce yourself to her. This is an absolutely wonderful time to do so. Yes?" _
> 
> ______________________________________________________

There was deafening silence, the heavy breathing of Estinien trying not to throw up rolled through the alleyway.

The warrior was staring straight at him. It was once again like earlier that day, a stolen motif of acknowledgement, as if he was trying to fathom what she was thinking and her, him. Though it was awfully presumptuous for him to assume what she was thinking and-

It was an extremely rare thing for Aymeric to act in vain. But in this moment he was caught in a rather compromisingly drunken situation. In a reactive flex he tried to smooth his thick dishevelled locks into place, clearing his throat heavily and straightening himself up in an attempt to appear presentable in front of the woman.

“My lady-“ Aymeric began, feeling his cheeks flush a deep red as heat spread through them. “I-“

Without much warning Haurchefant burst into an explosive display of affection, yelling the warrior’s name as he surged forward, brushing past Aymeric with great urgency and wrapping his arms around her into a gilded cage of arms and cloaks.

“My beautiful warrior” he crooned, rubbing his face against the top of her head like a cat in heat, “How blessed I am to be in your presence during this- this-” his voice faltered as he swung her wildly in his grip. He planted small nimble kisses on the crown of her head and she laughed, patting him gently whilst enduring his unwarranted affection with great patience.

Through swaying eyes Aymeric witnessed this, watching their display with almost voyeuristic fascination. He felt his stomach loop a little, sensing that Haruchefant was far too forward sometimes.

However, Professor Greystone’s statement earlier that day about their friendship rang true it seemed, the warrior softly pushed him away kindly, gripping his cloak as he nearly tumbled backwards like a weighted doll. She laughed lightly, her voice like the gentle ringing of wind chimes amidst Aymeric’s clouded mind.

A mind so clouded that he found himself smiling without realising. Her eyes gazed across him with precision, but moved back to focus on the silver haired elezen in front of her.

“Haurchefant I am here for _you._” She said sternly, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I was at Fortemps Manor waiting for you for the longest time until Count Edmont showed concern for your absence so I came looking for you. He mentioned this place was one you frequented with your fellow companions.”

“Ohhh my _lovely_ warrior-” Haurchefant drawled dreamily, clutching her again in great comfort and desperation “You were worried about me, my wonderful wonderful lady-”

“That’s certainly one way to place it.” She said teasingly and Aymeric let a small snort escape him, the humour of the situation imbuing his drunken state with great fervour. She glanced up at him, then across Estinien who was doubled over in silence behind them and she smirked again.

It was a knowing smirk, one that made Aymeric feel like his chest was going to explode. _Maybe just the ale_, his thoughts stammered through his head.

Then as if she triggered it, embarrassment began to ebb and flow through his insides.

“Well then Ser Greystone, it appears you are in good company.” She announced, turning away from Haurchefant’s pawing hands and making a point of motioning up the steps in the alleyway. Aymeric watched as Haurchefant elicited a small weak mewl, lunging towards her and wrapping his arms around her. “No, these gentlemen are dangerous, take me home oh great warrior!_ Please_. oh _please_!”

Estinien cursed under his breath at Haurchefant being so pathetic. “We will accompany you too my lady” he growled. Professor de Borel watched as her yellow eyes snapped dangerously to him and the corner of her lip twitched.

“I appreciate the offer, but it appears you two are more than capable of handling yourself. I feel the Count will have my head if I do not return his beloved son safely to his chambers.” She quipped, her voice danced soberly upon a serious tone.

Estinien took irrational offence.

“We _will_ accompany you.” He grunted, stumbling like a dazed hound. “I do not hold confidence that a woman of your stature is capable to handle her own. It is dangerous in this area at this time- time of-” He creased in half, a dry heave escaping his lips.

The warrior chuckled, Aymeric noticed her lip twitched at his remarks. “And I hold confidence that a gentleman of your current predicament is unable to hold his drink.”

Estinien jerked upright, glaring angrily and swore.

“Who do you think you are to-“

“Pray, excuse my friend, I’m afraid it appears he does not in fact know who you are.” Aymeric cut in, stepping between them, readying himself into a stable composure...or as well as he could. The ground in front of him swayed, the warrior’s eyes like two pale gold moons, swimming in and out of view upon her winter lit face.

Aymerics eyes rolled to the side, his face and ears growing an even red as he flashed a dazzling smile at her.

Drunkenly, his heart hammered in his chest, a crescendoing mix of ale, and the embarrassment for someone of such a high regard finding him in a situation that was... less than professional.

“Yes well, mayhaps he will find out soon enough.” she said simply in return. “Now if you excuse me for parting so swiftly, I have the duty of an over imbibed son of Fortemps to return that I must fulfil.”

Something jolted in his mind, his numbed, not-thinking-clearly mind. Somewhere, words, a summoning spell, splayed themselves like instructions across the inside of his thoughts:

_You promised Haurchefant you would formally introduce yourself to her. This is an absolutely wonderful time to do so. Yes?_

“If I may be so bold.” He said, bringing forth words from his throat, “I have not introduced myself yet.” he lifted up his and wavered it feebly in an attempt to keep the audience with her.

She turned, Haurchefant still clinging to her like a limpet.

“I am Aymeric de Borel- I mean, um. Professor de Borel, but you can always call me Aymeric if you so desire- I mean that is to say-”

He felt his throat run dry with regret. In a sober situation he would be rationally wondering why he had this incredible need to gain her approval upon their first meeting.

But in this exact, precise moment, many ales down, he was being ushered towards following through with this _need_ rather than questioning it.

“That is to say-” he made another gesture with his hand, but found himself leaning in the direction of said hand, as if it were suddenly heavy and throwing him off balance. He heard her giggle slightly as he pressed a finger to his forehead, brushing his fringe that felt clammy against his skin away. _Gods why am I sweating? Gods-_

“That is to say if Haurchefant speaks so highly of you then I would wish you to think highly of me- No, I mean we should think highly of you- No wait, I mean- to say--”

She had raised an eyebrow at him, remaining quiet, patient, giving him a moment to continue.

In a moment of stubbornness, _sheer stubbornness_, Aymeric felt he needed to rectify this… first impression.

“I do must… verily apologise. Pray forgive me.” He dipped his head to one side, smiling lopsidedly, “Normally I am _very composed_. In fact I am a renowned politician of words and a self confessed good dancer too.” He nodded sincerely, to reaffirm his confidence. “So pray, do not hold this small misadventure as a mishap of my usual, composed being, which is who I normally am… Professor de Borel, head of political history and-”

His voice trailed off as his eyes searched for his title, glancing to the right side of his brain. “Yes. Thusly I am.”

The convoluted mess of nonsensical sentences that spilled forth from him was with such a smooth yet abandoned attitude... that a small voice drowning at the back of his intoxicated mind made a footnote he would deeply regret his choice of words come the morning.

A small guffaw came from the man slumped across the warrior’s soldiers, a tired mumble of “Oh Aymeric, that silver tongue of yours can’t get you out of this-“ before he made made incoherent noises, sinking his face into the warriors scarf once again and sighing.

She was staring at him in entertained awe. He awkwardly kept gawking at her, in the hopes the alcohol that flowed through his veins would dull that sense of him wanting to be shot off the edge of Ishgard’s walls by the Fury herself.

“Certainly not a wonderful time for us to be making introductions,” she mused. He could feel her eyes studying him carefully, raking over his appearance.  
Aymeric’s face went even hotter as his eyes went wide, his lopsided smile aching at the corners of his cheekbones. “Perhaps another time, when you are less inebriated, we can begin anew with introductions?”

Aymeric felt flustered, he put his hands out and opened his mouth to try and over explain his friendly and noble intentions once again but his arms fell limp to his sides.

“Yes, this is rather shambolic is it not,” He muttered in defeat, sinking his face into the collar of his cloak with a wish to just disappear from this entire encounter. The warrior chuckled again. He noticed she had reached a hand out, to his arm, tentatively, in an attempt to pat him on the arm and he looked up solemnly in embarrassment. Her hand had leaned close, her lips parted, ready to speak when-

“_ESTINIEN_.” Came a loud choked, snarling bark. “_DRAGOON OF UNIVERSITY ISHGARD_.” In a very, very delayed reaction, the dragoon had caught up with the conversation. In a flash he saw the warrior’s hand recoil in shock. His booming, rough voice punched the wintery air around them, where the sound of boisterous noises in taverns beyond the alley began to swell as midnight bells tolled across the city.

“Well then. Professor de Borel, Ser Dragoon, I bid you goodnight. May Halone guide you safely to your beds.” She bowed her head slightly, smirking.

There was a light slap where she had grabbed Haurchefants hand, stopping him from reaching down across her bosom. Estinien let out an aggressive snort at his attempt.

“Even when he’s drunk, he cannot resist can he?” Estinien choked, slapping Aymeric painfully in the arm as he joined his side. Aymeric swayed on the spot, staring after the warrior who had stolen one final glance of him.

She then turned, letting the Fortemps Professor trail behind her, legs gangly and barely functioning as she began to slowly amble with him through the alley and into the Ishgardian night.

_Oh gods. He thought. I am but a fool aren’t I?_


	3. Taverns and Mistrials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Another piece from Aymeric's view. The WoL stumbles briefly into the wrong situation and our trio of elezen end up in a tavern for far too many drinks!_
> 
> __________________________________________________

Though he had been invited to morning tea with the new esteemed Professor, Aymeric had politely declined, promising to formally introduce himself another time.

Haurchefant had given him a sly smile, warning him that he was missing out on a fine opportunity to converse with someone as interesting and as intellectual as him. Aymeric was apathetic, noting that the call of his work meant he had little time to regret declining small social moments. 

“As you wish my friend, I fully understand. I feel selfish for keeping her all to myself!” Haurchefant mused, as Aymeric chuckled in response. 

Their first interaction however, did not occur until a few days into the Warrior of Light’s residence at the University. 

Rubbing his eyes, Aymeric shuffled books into a pile for him to carry back to his office. Tucking his glasses into the pocket of his blue shirt he adjusted his rolled up sleeves and moved to brace the weight of the tomes he wanted to carry. 

The lecture theatre was empty, the final class of the day for Professor de Borel had ended. He smiled to himself, looking forward to having an early night, retiring to his manor to sit by the fire, enjoy a small drink and some peace from the chaos that was always the first month of term. 

Suddenly, without warning, the theatre doors burst open with such force that it bounced off the hinge, groaning and creaking at the impact as it swung back idly. Aymeric looked up through the beams of dusty sunlight spilling in and noticed a figure standing, breathless and clutching the doorframe. 

“May I help you?” Aymeric called, his deep voice rose through the chamber, kind and helpful. In return, he was greeted with a burst of frustration-- 

“Oh bloody hells, this is the wrong lecture theatre_again!_ I’m going to be late! This is the _second_ time this week!”

Her voice was light, almost humoured by the situation. Aymeric’s eyes widened as he lifted a hand to shade himself from the dazzling light to focus on the figure. He took in the sight before him, gaining a split second of great import to glance at the person who had exclaimed. 

White hair, tied into a messy bun. Pale amber eyes like wintery jewels that blinked back, staring at him for the briefest of seconds, snatched from a moment that was clear the woman did not have. 

“I- I must go I’m late!” Exclaimed the young lady, the door fell shut, a clattering of metal and wood thundered through the theatre followed the frantic sound of the heels of boots scattering on marble flooring fading away, leaving Aymeric alone once again. 

He blinked, wondering who she was. She didn’t look like a student but also, surely she wasn’t-- 

\---

Haurchefant greeted Aymeric’s enquiry with raucous laughter. 

“That brief second you glimpsed was indeed her.” Haurchefant’s voice was sing song, his laughter rolling around the corridors of the University as they paced slowly along, taking their leave for the day. “What made you think it was not?” 

“Well…” Aymeric pondered, feeling his stomach twist at his stupidity “I assumed the Warrior of Light was of an… older age.” 

“Seven hells of course not! If I’m correct she’s not shy of thirty winters my friend, a young and capable woman and not an aged old hag you assume she is.” Snorted his friend, trying to stifle his laughter with a hand, letting the bag of documents wobble dangerously on his shoulder as he clutched them. 

Aymeric felt the blood rush to his ears, tingling on his skin as he pushed his fingers up towards to pinch the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to ride out his embarrassment. 

“Pray forgive me for being so presumptuous.” He uttered, trying to escape the cringing feeling seeping through his chest. 

Haurchefant gave him a salacious smile. 

“You are forgiven. I could not bare to see my precious Warrior of Light being slandered as so. You should see her on the battlefield... oh the way she moves! The way her lithe body flexes in a fight is just… splendid. A beautiful creature in the heat of war that I desire to worship-” 

“Haurchefant.” Aymeric said stiffly, gently nudging him. “You’re being a little overzealous again my friend.” 

He choked back a cough, letting his chuckle taper out as he side eyed Aymeric. 

“I can never resist. Though friends we are... and friends we remain. Nothing more.” He sighed wistfully. “She is too precious to lose to any sudden urges within a bedchamber-” 

Aymeric glanced fiercely away, trying to glaze over his dear friend’s exploitative musings. 

Known as the charismatic and charming Professor, Haurchefant Greystone to Aymeric and the student body was a flirt and a passionately dedicated Professor. His father, Count Edmont Fortemps was the reigning Rector of the University and by proxy, Haurcherfant proved versatile and invaluable, filling in for classes as well as heading Knight studies. He was also a keen chocobo keeper.

“A drink at Manor Fortemps?” Haurchefant ducked to peer at Aymeric, smiling.

“I would love to, but alas I desire to have a quiet night if you may excuse me-” Aymeric said politely, Haurchefant gave a small whine. 

“First tea with the gracious Warrior of Light and now denying me the privilege of your company pray, Aymeric please don’t become a social recluse-” Haurchefant pouted at him and Aymeric laughed quietly, caving to his friend’s words. 

“I am indeed in need of a little liquor perhaps...” 

“Nay, we need something endless and harsh. We need a tavern.” Came a brooding voice from behind the two elezen. 

Swivelling on their feet they both turned at the end of the grand corridor they had paced down, looking around the sunlit flooded area in a confused state. 

The ornately decorated interior of the hallway was empty, a few windows stood open letting a gentle breeze float in, cool and refreshing against the glassy sunlight that heated up the building easily at the peak of the late afternoon. Even the harsh climate of Coerthas couldn’t fight the endless amounts of glass that easily projected light and heat into the building. 

“I am right here you two.” spoke the familiar voice again with a snarl. 

They both twisted their necks and looked to an open window behind them. 

A tall, broad shouldered elezen sat crouched on the windowsill, a small covering of snow flecked through his white hair, which was tied into a loose ponytail, catching the light and sparkling. He was frowning, ignoring the melted dribbles of snow that ran down his brow. His leather clad clothing was crumpled in places around him as he sat poised, flexed on the spot. 

Haurchefant burst out laughing, the bag of documents fell onto the floor as he doubled over. 

“Dear gods Estinien one day you’ll travel around our fair University like a real teacher.” He gasped, walking over to the window and slapping the dragoon on the shoulder. 

Estinien glowered at him through narrowed eyes, making a small grumbling noise as he stepped down from the ledge, ignoring Haurchefants shite eating grin. 

“Tavern. Now.” He grunted, pushing past the two Professors and skulking down the corridor. The two men looked at each other, shrugging in amusement and following the trail of a disgruntled aura that emanated from their friend. 

\--- 

The stale smell of beer mingled with the wet smell of Ishgardian air, smokey fireplaces and cool mossy damp. 

The three elezen were hunched together in a corner booth in _The Fang and Claw_; a tavern that Estinien often haunted when he needed somewhere quiet._The Forgotten Knight_ though popular among well, knights, was often crowded these days with new excited students as they acclimatised to the drinking culture of Ishgard. Those that were well established in their years at the University often chose to haunt other pubs. Thus, leaving _The Fang and Claw_ a quiet, downtrodden pub hidden in an alley. Only dragoons from the battlements and a few wayward travellers would duck in for a few pints. 

The dull thud of thick stone against wood as Estinien slammed another round of ale onto the table was that of a loud boom, knocking Haurchefant into a roar of joy as he swiped the large stein, pulling it to his lips and drinking deep. 

Further empty steins lay abandoned around Estinien and Haurchefant. Aymeric lagged behind, nursing two steins with two finished, that stood feebly amongst the clutter of empties in the wake of his two friends’ heavy drinking. 

“Keep up my dear friend, lest you fall behind and we will have to tilt your head back and empty them into you!” Haurchefant jeered, nudging into Aymeric and sloshing ale around, it spattered onto the table and sploshed onto his lap a little.  
He laughed deeply, clinking his large stone cup against the other two as they all cheered. 

“Pray, I do not wish to be carried home. We haven’t drank this much in a long while. Estinien, what has triggered you to entail such a binge?” 

“Bloody students.” Estinien made a small guttural sound, speaking into his drink. “They can’t handle how tough I am on them. To hells with them.” He slammed the stein down, leaning with one arm across the table as he clenched a fist. “Edmont thinks I’m doing well, training them well... But how am I when the students wont stop_whining pathetically_.” 

“Maybe you should be more gentle with them, friend.” Aymeric said, his eyes half lidded as the creeping feeling of inebriation frayed at the edges of his mind. 

“No. They need to_ learn_.” He snarled, his hair going wild as he gesticulated madly, hitting his fist upon the table, causing Aymeric to jump slightly. 

“Why do you persist then?” Haurchefant claimed boldly, leaning forward and looking with large inquisitive eyes at Estinien, “If it frustrates you so?” 

“Because who else than the bloody Azure Dragoon?” Estinien hissed. “They are my students. They are our future.” 

Unwarranted silence fell upon them at Estinien’s words. Haurchefant’s cheeks puffed, his eyes crinkling in mad joy. 

“Estinien,” he began, breaking the silence with his quip, “I daresay you are beginning to _care_ about your students.” The dragoon choked into his drink mid gulp. 

“Am I not allowed to care?” He spat. 

“Well it’s not that,” Aymeric chimed in, running his thumb over the handle of his stein, “But the more it’s not often we see you displaying such passionate sentiments over something.” 

“You’re giving them tough love, such a grand gesture.” Haurchefant beamed, slapping a hand against Estiniens back who jerked forward, scowling once again as he threaded his eyebrows together. His cheeks were tinged a delicate pink in reaction to the jesting. 

“Shut up. You two are bloody idiots and I hate you.” He resented. 

Aymeric chuckled into his drink, taking a long throaty sip. He had reached the point where he had found himself willingly stepping over the edge of being restrained. Being in the banterful company of two of his closest friends had goaded him into following through into a drunken state. 

The night went on, many steins down, the desolate pub was filled with the roaring laughter of the three educators. Candles burned low and Haurchefant had burst into song for the third time in a row, singing of the noble highborn ladies of Ishgard and their hidden, seedy ways. 

When the time came, Aymeric stood to take his coat and cloak to brace himself for the cold night air outside. In that moment the world tilted to one side, then wobbled to tilt the other way as his sight wavered. His inebriation was only slightly apparent as he swayed slightly to remain composed.

Elezens were not known for handling heavy drinking spectacularly, but for Aymeric he often held up well in comparison to Estinien and Haurchefant. 

The two of them were far worse for wear. 

Estinien had been reduced to shouting expletives frequently for no reason, Haurchefant had flung one long arm around the dragoon, swinging his body back and forth as if trying to use the him as a weight. He was leaning in too close to the shell of his ear to ask in a slurred, dismembered voice why he hadn’t tried to court someone yet, saying the only thing he was married to was his lance. His silvery hair was a mess across his face and Estinien’s ponytail was long gone, his hair falling like a dishevelled curtain around his shoulders. 

“And _YOU_” Haurchefant catcalled to Aymeric, who had made his way across the tavern, leading his two friends behind him, “You are in matrimony with your _WORK_.” He burst into laughter, wrangling Estinien into a tighter grip who in turn was frowning intensely at the floor. 

Aymeric barked a laugh, glancing over his shoulder to call back at them as he reached for the tavern door, missing by a few inches before attempting again. 

“I will have you know that I am gracious talk amongst the ladies of the Highborn.” Aymeric said smugly, though it didn’t sound as smug when it left his lips, more of a loud shambolic series of words in a deep drunken tone. 

Successfully clamping his hand around the handle, the three of them piled through the door with force. 

“Aymeric my man- oof!” Haurchefant joyfully cried, the trio fell into the alleyway, their bodies all collided clumsily against the wall and they all exploded into fits of sniggering and jeering at each other. 

Aymeric stumbled forward, bracing a hand against the wall. He was too drunk to feel the full impact of the gritty wall and icy coldness grazing across his delicate palm.  
Haurchefant continued his lecture to Aymeric.

“Get yourself a beautiful woman who will-- will-- Oh _hello_ there my dear!-- What an odd person to encounter in such a dark and dangerous alleyway.” Haurchefants tone had gone from disciplinary and absolute to low and sultry and flirting. 

Aymeric looked up from his bracing pose… and was met by a pair of pale amber eyes. 

In the dim light of the lanterns her white hair was still prominent against the night sky, scraped into that messy bun he recognised from before. 

Swathed in cloaks of a rich black, the Warrior of Light blinked back at him with a surprised smirk.


	4. The Prince and The Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ It’s the beautiful ones you have to look out for she mused, eyes losing focus and glancing instead out over the University architecture, losing themselves in the pale grey as the last of the sunset ebbed its way across the building. She had probably profiled him unfairly, but only because someone had said the same about her once. _
> 
> _____________________________

“Hello Professor Light!”

“Good morning Arthur!”

“Morning Professor Light!”

“Good morning Serella.”

“Hail and well met Professor Light!”

“Good morning P’ala!”

It had only been a week. A hectic first week. But the student body had already crowned her with a nickname.

_Professor Light_. A title born of endearment from her students and for the legacy she carried.

Voices chimed all around her in greeting, warm and filled with adoration. Student’s heads spun to greet her as she walked briskly down corridors, rushing to the classes she first had to teach. She closed her eyes, swaying among bodies of people for a moment. She felt happy, content.

Though they called her _Light_ or_ Professor Light._ She did not mind. In fact, she embraced it.

A new title, a small chance to carry a facade even if it is for a brief moment of peace before she’d need to be summoned between her shifts as a Professor to become the warrior again. Summoned to help the Scions out, or to help defend an area from an attack again or retrieve some lost powerful artifact that was required to help forward the realm in its litany of peace.

Eorzea had long been progressive in defending itself against threats. Nothing that existed back when the first of her generation of Warrior of Lights had even occurred, leaving Professor Light more of an open chance to tread a less dangerous path (for now, she felt) whilst maintaining an avatar of Champion, Slayer of Primals, Warrior.

Eorzea’s finest.

She couldn’t squander her gift, Hydaelyns gift, it was her duty to carry it and use it to help. She was bound to her legacy, she was The Warrior Of Light.

It was in her very bones, imbued into her existence.

But did anyone ever see beyond that title? Did anyone ever see beneath that hardened exterior?

She stopped at the classroom door, letting her hand gently clasp around the smooth handle. Her mind had wandered again. She took a deep breath, sucking in the fresh morning air that mingled in the hallway through open windows. Crisp, revitalising.

Slipping back into her patient and cheery mood she pushed open the door.

“Good morning class!” Light chimed, hearing them murmur a good morning to her in return. Placing her books down upon the desk at the front of the classroom she slipped her cloak off, hanging it upon a hook and proceeded to open up her notes for her first class.

—-

The Professor stretched, patches of chalkdust shifted as she tried to dust the remnants of a day of classes from her hands. Her leather boots clicked across the black and white patchwork of marble flooring that was a common motif along the floors of the university.

The late evening sun burned dimly in the air, the sign of a cool chill descending over Ishgard was apparent. Carefully, she stepped through a frosty door out to the upper level of outdoor walkways that overlooked one of the many courtyards. This one, in particular she liked for it was large and spacious, a mysteriously deep pond sat frozen in the centre, statues of knights poised gracefully on stone plinths around its edges.

The temperature drop was apparent… and the Professor immediately brought her hands up to her face, huffing into them to warm them up as she paced slowly along the walkway. Her mind drifted to thoughts of a warm fire and fresh stew she had requested that would be waiting for her in her residence for when she returned. Though she had aptly refused residence at Manor Fortemps, Haurchefant still sought to be hospitable, and let some of his housekeepers tend to her residence too. Though she wished to refuse his ministrations, he was very insistent and so she caved, his pout and longing blue eyes causing her to relent. On particularly cold nights like this however, she was grateful she’d have a warm hearth to return to and a fresh pantry of food to devour.

She looked down across slates and statues and spotted Professor de Borel cross briskly across the pale grey courtyard. She smiled, resting her head on her palm and observed him.

She cast her mind back to his drunken words and attempt to charm his way out of the situation that Light had found him in. It had made her laugh greatly and was sure that his indiscretions was part of the reason she had not seen him for a few days until now. Haurchefant had jested to her he was simply staying out of her way out of embarrassment, that an apology would come soon enough.

Immediately when she had laid eyes on him she knew he was someone of a popular status. He was the one of a princely image, a beautiful chiselled face adorned with cool azure eyes and a graceful mop of raven black hair that framed his features.

He was tall, lean. Swathed in wintery cloaks and hurrying with the air of a man filled with intent and purpose. A stark contrast to the blunderingly adorable fool she had encountered a few nights ago.

She laughed inwardly, clouds of cold air puffed around her.

_It’s the beautiful ones you have to look out for_ she mused, eyes losing focus and glancing instead out over the University architecture, losing themselves in the pale grey as the last of the sunset ebbed its way across the building. She had probably profiled him unfairly, but only because someone had said the same about _her_ once.

_Thancred you’re always right, aren’t you?_ She thought, letting the small ends of her fingers brush over her lips in contemplation.

She looked back down, tracing the path Professor de Borel had walked.

Then, her heart stopped instantly, as if someone had lunged out of nowhere and clenched it tightly in an icy grip.

Professor de Borel had paused at the other side of the courtyard, half stepped under the arches... And his piercing blue eyes were gazing up at _her._

Normally she’d sense these things instantly but being tired and weary from the day she had been caught off guard. Feeling her stomach flip several times she cranked her arm up, giving him a slight wave and a lopsided smile. He smiled in return, lifting a hand to greet her, dipping his head in acknowledgment and a small flicker of embarrassment slipped through his smile before he ducked into the shadows of the archways below.

She turned, facing away and aligning her back flush against the pillar she was next to as she laughed to herself at her folly.

Those eyes.

There was a certain magnetism that lingered, a small taut string, a baited hook, that was causing her to let him remain in her mind in fascination. It dangled on the fringes of her inner thoughts, tempting her, asking her curiosity to bite. In her mind's eye her hand reached out carefully, but withdrew almost suddenly as she took a sharp inhale of cold air to snap herself out of it.

_Tread carefully_. She thought to herself.


	5. Enamoured and Innocent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ Perfectly etched, as if plucked from life itself, was a drawing of Professor Light. _
> 
> ________________________________________________________________________________________

“Gods Alphinaud, if you stare any harder you’re going to burn a hole through her!” Alisaie hissed, a swift movement followed her comment as she elbowed him in the ribs.

He jolted and cringed, a deep heat of pain blossomed as he clutched his side. “Ow, can you please desist!”

“Once you stop gawking and actually start listening.” She muttered quietly, jabbing him again.

“I am! I am taking notes!” Alphinaud lied. Alisaie peered over, her white braid fell forward as she craned her neck to look at the supposed notes her twin brother was taking. Her face fell into a cat like smirk, eyes furrowed, as she noticed what he was doing.

Perfectly etched, as if plucked from life itself, was a drawing of Professor Light.

The woman whom, stood before them in this exact moment, reading in a lighthearted yet academic tone about the history and topography of the region of The Black Shroud, detailing it’s creatures, dungeons and history. Her voice carried through the air like a gentle melody, Alphinaud found her very soothing to listen to and how she still kept an air of intrigue about her. It was why she was popular among the students. And why he found her a favourite of his own.

“And what pray tell, do you call this? You are honestly smitten!” Alisaie teased, grabbing the parchment quickly with deft fingers. Alphinaud made a small squeak, feeling his ears burn. Alisaie ignored her his protests as she held it under the thin wooden bar of the lecture hall desk in front of them.

Alphinaud’s face went a hot shade of dalamud red, he thought he might go on fire as he tried to snatch the paper back, flailing and shuffling over her.

These actions and bickering had not gone unnoticed. Both twins peered up to see that Professor Light had stopped talking, and was now glancing intently at them, a small smile on her face.

“As much as I’m certain it isn’t, I hope my lecture on the Black Shroud is not that boring?” She said, blinking her eyes kindly at them, round, pale yellow. Alisaie went silent, saying nothing as she blushed though Alphinaud coughed, suddenly standing up and folding himself in half in apology.

“I apologise Professor.” He stammered, bowing deeply “Your lectures aren’t boring at all! In fact I find them amazingly intriguing and a great source of knowledge for the benefit of our studies-” the words fell from Alphinaud in a series of toppled octaves, his voice dancing up and down as he nervously sputtered. Several students behind them giggled, even Alisaie dipped her head to try and hide her wry smile.

Light blinked a few times and laughed gently. “I was only teasing Master Alphinaud, pray, don’t worry and try to resist quarreling so much with your sister in my lectures in future if you can.”

His heart thundered in his chest as he sunk back into his seat, wanting to somehow phase through the floor, his aether to turn him into dust and to be scattered to the cold winds of Ishgard below. He chewed his lip, an anxious wave of fear washed over him. Oh gods she hates me now. I’ve let her down. _I’ve disappointed the Professor. She’s a Scion. She’s_\- Alphinaud thought’s spewed irrationally. Alisaie was reading his face perfectly as always.

“You should give it to her, see if you can ask her out to dinner and charm her with your artistic ways.” Alisaie muttered under her breath, grinning. Alphinaud scowled at her hotly.

His embarrassment was like a thick suffocating blanket over his mood for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one, but I wanted to introduce Alphinaud and Alisaie into the fray :)


	6. Flowers and First Greetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ “Professor Light,” she said, taking a deep bow, hair flowing around her “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I seem to have grown accustomed to this new name the students have blessed me with.” She stood straight, blinking at him with her face a little pink. “And it seems you like to favour the method of staring once again.” _
> 
> ____________________________________________________

Aymeric wrung his hands, smartly tugging on the lapel of his deep Ishgardian blue longcoat, before buttoning up the abandoned collar of his pale cream shirt. In a window of one of the empty classrooms he peered at his reflection, brushing his mop of hair so that it fell into order across his face.

He felt himself go red at the ears a little, noticing a few stray students had witnessed him and they giggled, quickly scattering as he cleared his throat, straightening himself up and walking briskly down the corridor.

The weather across Ishgard was gloomy. Grey clouds bristled and bunched in shades of deep charcoal and blue greys. Sleet splintered heavily across the windows, the pattering noise a constant thrum that filled the hallowed hallways of the University.  
As he wandered through the dimly lit corridors, he searched his memories, tapping through recollections to reach the instructions Haurchefant gave on where he could find Professor Light’s office.

_“Ah you finally come to the sense to apologise to her, tail between your legs.” Haurcehfant grinned, waving cheerily at the last of his students as they left his classroom. He had turned to Aymeric, slapping him on the chest and then recited which floor and corridor to find her office._

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to apologise. He just felt like a blundering mess for a few days, and wished for the embarrassment to die before he could compose himself in an orderly fashion... Regain his composure, his unflustered demeanour.

He passed the small scale replica statue of an Aetheryte crystal, taking a sharp left and continued briskly down along the tiled corridor.

_Right at the statue of Ser Haldrath, then beyond the stain glass windows and-_

He slowed to a stop, reaching a thick oak door, the Professor’s last name etched across it beautifully.

Since classes were in session, the corridor he stood in was empty, noises from within the office could be heard, muffled and faint. Boxes shuffling, furniture scraping and the creaking of wood met his ears, indicating she was present.

He lifted the back of his hand to the door and paused. Why was he nervous? The embarrassment of his misadventures tugged at his stomach lightly. He batted the hazy memory away, took a long deep breath… then rapped his hand briskly against the door.

“Oh! Do come in!” Rang a sing song voice in response.

Aymeric gently creaked the door open.

A wall of floral scents punched him in the face. It was cloying, overwhelming. brought up a hand to cover his face in instinct before he grew accustomed to the smell.

The room was dimly lit, the fireplace abandoned for now. Boxes of books and items lay in piles. Shelves were half filled, a few abandoned mugs of coffee littered the top of the ornately carved office desk that sat framed by the tall windows. A grey filter from the gloom outside cast shadows across the room.

The most distinguishable thing however, was the fact that every conceivable space that could exist was filled with bouquets of flowers. It was a spectrum of colour. Various shades and types bloomed, all the ribbons that tied each one together a marigold yellow. He blinked, the disarray of the room had distracted him so much it took him another split second to acknowledge the woman he was looking for.

She was balanced precariously on an armchair, which in itself had tilted slightly so it was wobbling on two of its legs. She was storing some books away on the highest shelf. As the leather bound tomes slid neatly into place she craned her neck around, catching Aymeric’s eyes. Her face lit up, a warm smile creased onto her features.

“Ah! Hello there at last!”

Gently she stepped down from the chair. With a flick of her hand the lantern on her desk glimmered into life, a warm arcane flame casting a glow across the room where it could reach. “I do apologise for the mess, I’m still unpacking my belongings, something which clearly requires more time than I anticipated…” She brought a hand up to her hair, twirling a stray strand in her fingers as she looked across the mess in contemplation.

Aymeric found himself lost in her actions, his blood ran hot, pulsing through his insides. He was one to always be first and foremost in formal occasions, polite mannerisms never eluded him yet somehow her presence made him nervous. He couldn’t figure for the love of Halone why.

“It appears you are ready to begin anew with our introductions.” She said, shuffling herself amongst the piles of books littered around their feet. Aymeric opened his mouth to say something but instead he felt his chest flutter instead, stopping words from coming from his throat. The space between them grew smaller with each step.

“Professor Light,” she said, taking a deep bow, hair flowing around her “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I seem to have grown accustomed to this new name the students have blessed me with.” She stood straight, blinking at him with her face a little pink. “And it seems you like to favour the method of staring once again.”

He coughed, stumbling in his thoughts then switched his expression from embarassed to channeling his inner politically polite stance.

“Professor Aymeric de Borel.” He said, arching one arm against himself as he bowed. “An absolute pleasure to meet you, Professor Light. I am humbled to be in the presence of someone with such high regard.”

“And yet you know only of me that I carry the title of Warrior of Light.” She said smirking. Her ways of hiding jests in her stoic yet playful words made his chest thump. It was as if she was lingering around a defense she had set up around herself.

“Forgive me,” he said, bowing his head. “More importantly, I have come to extend my absolute deepest apologies for my indiscretions a few nights ago.” He dipped into another formal bow, speaking as his hair fell forward. “I find I was not at my most appropriate, nor in a condition to attempt any form of socialisation. I full well hope it did not offend you.”

His stomach clenched in anticipation, then immediately loosened as the sound of light laughter rang around him. He straightened up.

“Ah, Professor de Borel, do not worry at all.” She said. “I wasn’t offended in the slightest, though poor Ser Haurchefant was absolutely mortified.” She gestured to the field of flowers surrounding them both. “He felt it apt to send these in the wake of his long and drawn out apology. Though he didn’t know what type were my favourite so felt the need to send one of everything…” she lifted her hand to her mouth, stifling a small giggle.

Aymeric smiled at her, tapping his feet against the ornate rug, it’s faded patterns peering through amongst piles of books. He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head, lacing a few strands of hair through his fingers. A nervous tick he rarely revealed to anyone.

“Then I suppose… I should not attempt to send you many flowers in wake of my own apology.” He said, humorously, letting his face blush at his small attempt to be... untoward to her.

With a jolt, she looked up at him in surprise, eyes wide, mouth open. A tinge of red had creeped across her cheeks.

It was her turn, he noticed, for her to stumble upon her words.  
“Well, I do say, yes... pray do not attempt...indeed.” She uttered breathlessly. He felt his chest twist in amusement at the fact he caught her out with his remark.

He followed her swift movements as she pulled a box from the floor, planting it onto the coffee table by the fireplace. Professor Light paused, tapping a finger on her lip. Then her gaze came to meet him.

“If you do wish to make through with your apology.” She mused, her voice trailing “Then perhaps you could aid me in storing these books, if it is not too much of a bother.”

“I would be glad to help.” Aymeric said, bowing once again.

They worked together to empty books and miscellanea from her boxes. He found himself occasionally stopping to watch the Professor as she bristled around the room, filing drawers and putting things where she saw best. She hummed a light tune Aymeric identified as a traditional Ishgardian tune, letting her lulling notes drift around the room. The silence between them was comforting. Knowing he had a day ahead to speak in polite tones to rooms of students all day, this was a moment of solace he was happy to be part of.

“Pray, could you pass that pile of books there, I think they’ll find wonderfully over here.” Professor Light called. She was balancing once again on the armchair, reaching high above the shelf.

“Ah, should I maybe assist with that given my… tall demeanour.” Aymeric said carefully, reaching for the pile of books and placing them at a height on an empty piece of shelf she could reach.

“Not at all, I am perfectly capable.” She assured him. “Ah-” a book tumbled from the shelf she shuffled around. It skittered across the room, sliding under another armchair.

Seeking it out, Aymeric picked it up. The leather was a beautiful azure colour. It seemed to catch the light, as if it were metallic in tones. Embellished in gold along the front was the title _A Succinct History of Our Warrior of Light Most Wonderful_. He traced a finger over the embellishment, then proceeded to flick it open. From the first Warrior of Light to the current, who, stood wobbling on the edge of a chair before him, the book’s table of contents informed him that it covered everything he’d ever need to know.

“My Lady, perhaps I could borrow this?” Aymeric called. He saw she glanced him quickly, giving him a small wry smile.

“Ah, Professor, you wish to know more of me do you?” She jested. A warm flush swept across his features and he coughed.

“Perhaps I do, is it not normal for one to want to learn more of the newest person to join our academic ranks?” He hummed, peering down at the book to hide his face.

“Well- oh- OH AH!” she began but her voice was punctuated with a small yell, the sound of furniture crashing and a loud and heavy thump as books scattered.

Aymeric snapped his head up. The woman across the room from him had disappeared completely from view. A dishevelled body and a pile of books could be seen among the boxes.

“Ah, Professor!” Aymeric stuttered, hurrying over to where she lay. She looked dazed, her eyes scrunched shut, several books were clenched in her hands, other tomes were scattered across her torso.

She was wearing a black long sleeved dress adorned with gold detailing each side of the arms before lacing across her chest. Her skirt had bunched up, loose, showing the dips of her thighs. Aymeric felt heat rise to his face for observing a little too much and slapped himself mentally with for being so indecent even if it was hidden in his thoughts.

A thin red line of blood dribbled from her nose, and some from a small cut above her left eyebrow. Scarlet ribbons that splayed across her face, dipping slightly into snow white hair that had splayed itself out like a fan behind her head.

Aymeric knelt down, unsure if he should reach out.

“Professor?” He said again, his voice more concerned. Her eyes slowly opened, unfocused at first before they fell upon Aymeric who was hunched over her now. She smiled dopily.

“Maybe I should have sought out a stepladder.” She said softly, her voice breaking into a cough that then flipped into a chuckle.

There was a small scuffling of books and she sat up, her hair falling across her shoulders like snowfall. Aymeric stared without realising before taking hold of the conversation.

“Are you ok my lady?” He said urgently, trying to fold himself close enough that he could be at her level. She nodded simply, her face a little flush.

“Ah, your face…” He delved into his coat pocket, pulling out a blue and gold silk handkerchief. She blinked at him, propping herself against the back of her desk.

He crouched close again, and brought the handkerchief up to her face carefully. She stared at him in fascination, clearly still out of it and he paused before he attempted anything.

“May I?” He asked. She nodded simply, eyes carefully watching him. He pressed lightly against her skin, dabbing at her face. She made a small hiss, he paused and she gave him an awkward smile.

“Pray, I am sure I can handle my own now.” Carefully, her fingers closed around his hand, before he willingly nodded, letting the silk material slip from his fingers swiftly.

"You can keep it," Aymeric said, smiling softly. 

Her face was still pink and as the remains of the blood was wiped away she thanked him, before bringing her fingers up to slowly sweep across her face. What he could presume was white magicks ebbed and flowed from her fingers, the small cut above her head disappeared. She sighed peacefully, taking a moment to compose herself.

Aymeric had remained quiet once again, watching her with great interest. Focusing on her he stood up, offering her a hand to help her up.

Lightly, she took it and they stood close. Only the thrumming of rain pattering against the windows could be heard, echoing...as if this moment between them stretched on far longer than it should.

Aymeric cleared his throat, turning to face the windows.

“The weather surely is abysmal today isn’t it?” He announced. As soon as the words left his mouth he felt like the full force of Estinien with his spear slap him in his mind's eye._ Idiot._

As if Halone herself was watching this interaction and needed to intervene, the bells to hail the coming of the next period of classes tolled. It’s heavy chimes reverberated, echoing through sheets of rain and halls.

“Oh- yes. I have… classes. Now.” He mumbled, fidgeting behind his neck again.

Part of him wanted to crawl into the library and hide under a table to rot away in embarrassment. Yet, part of him also wanted to stay, become more acquainted with the woman who he could hear walking across the room to him, as he stared with great intensity out the rain soaked windows, clenching his jaw in anticipation.

As he turned, he felt a pair of hands pressed something lightly into his torso and his hands rose to clasp around the fine azure leatherbound book he had been looking at before.

“Thank you for your help, Professor.” She said, her light yellow eyes gleaned in the dim lamplight, a wholesome glint in them. He looked surprised, then smiled.

“A pleasure, My Lady.” He said politely.

“Oh and--” She looked around frantically, her hand hovering in thought, before grasping a single bunch of the many flowers she was adorned with and handing the vase to him. They were acacias, pale golden yellow in colour. Aymeric felt his heart hitch in his throat, wondering if she knew how much they matched her eyes…

“A token of appreciation,” she said. “And to perhaps lessen the abundance that remains in my office…” He chuckled as he took them, tucking the book under his arm and gently twining his fingers through some of the stems.

“It is appreciated.” He said. “I assure you I will not leave our next meeting so long after the first.”

He watched as her eyes widened and she beamed. She shifted on her feet then looked down, toying with her embroidered sleeves awkwardly.

“I would... not be adverse to that.” She said carefully, looking up to meet his stare. He noticed it. A flash of something dwelled from within her, a small whisper of a flicker that twirled within swirling depths of pale gold irises.

The smallest twinge of something thrummed from deep in his chest. He felt young again, a teenager, flattered by the presence of someone so wholesome and gentle.

Mysterious, an aura of graciousness... hiding something deeper.

His curiosity had most certainly been piqued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the comments so far, they really make my day!  
Also huge thanks to everyone that is enjoying this so far! I'm having way too much fun writing little bits of it and putting it all together, it's such a fun environment and concept to be working with (^ _ ^ . )


	7. Fury and Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If stubbornness were a god, it’s statue would be carved into the likeness of Estinien._
> 
> _________________________________________

“That’s Ser Wyrmblood.” Gasped a student. “He teaches combat classes here. Apparently he has quite the short temper, he’s really harsh in his methods.”

“Compared to Professor Greystone’s extra curricular fighting classes?” 

“Oh, Ser Greystone’s classes are far better and kinder than Ser Wyrmblood’s. They say the dragoon is far more brutal, students have dropped from his class because they can’t handle how tough he is.” 

The student who spoke had a voice that carried easily over the heads of others, even if it was in a rushed whisper. Estinien’s ears prickled and he furrowed his brow deeply, ignoring the gossip. He slouched down a corridor among a throng of students who moved out his way, a heavy steel lance slung over his shoulder. His lance. He clenched it tighter in his grip whenever he heard whisperings of his name. He simply scowled in return, planting his eyes straight ahead and ignoring them all. 

If stubbornness were a god, its statue would be carved into the likeness of Estinien.

It’s why he persisted to remain a teacher at this University as much as he could. To prove a point. To Aymeric and to himself and to anyone else that would give him the time of day. 

“Line up!” he barked roughly, his voice a loud growl that sharply ululated around the room’s chamber like ceiling.

His class stood in a perfectly straight line, wearing simple leather armour and holding quarterstaffs. They shivered in the cool air of the gymnasium, it was chillier than usual. It was a grand wooden room, beams that stretched like pointed fingers, clasping over themselves and high enough that any dragoon could comfortably leap and perform simple tricks with their weapon. 

“Today we will be practicing the vorpal thrust.” He grunted, swinging his own lance in one hand and slamming it into the ground with great force.

“Now, you better have been practicing your true thrusts, as it is required to-” He stopped mid sentence and clicked his fingers. A striking dummy appeared from the floor in the centre of the room. Without even going back to his sentence he instead spun on his heel, and darted at great speed towards the dummy. 

There was a swirl of wind, a whip and a slash and the head of the dummy fell cleanly off. He skidded into a neat halt and then stood straight, once again slamming the staff into the ground as he turned to face his class, their jaws slack as their mouths hung wide open in awe.

“True thrust, then vorpal thrust. It is not hard.” He spat. “Now practice.” 

He was a man of very few words. Or at least he tried to be. His class stared at him before stumbling towards their own training dummies that appeared from the ground. 

“Your stance is too loose!” growled Estinien, slapping the students ankle with a spare quarterstaff he held. “Focus on your grip!” He shouted at another, giving their gloves hands a light rap.

“Alisaie, that flows well. Good.” 

Alisaie stopped at the end of her attack, lifting the visor from her helm and stammered a flustered “Thanks Ser!” As she blushed, turning back to focusing on her attacks. 

Estinien slowed to a stop, amidst the sounds of wood clattering with loud crashing noises, a small whine could be heard from the boy in front of him. 

“Alphinaud.” Estinien huffed. “What in seven hells are you doing?” 

The young elezen was lying on the floor face down and somehow, his quarterstaff had gotten tangled around his legs. He groaned. 

Estinien let out a grunt and slouched down. With one forceful hand he grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck, lifting him up onto his feet to face the dragoon. 

“P-pray forgive me!” He gushed, hastily pushing up his visor. “I- I’m still trying to get the hang of things!” 

“Why do you insist on being part of this class if it is clear you are more attuned to that of magicks and healing!?” Estinien snarled, flecks of spit scattered from impatient words. Estinien could feel anger swirling in his stomach. 

“Because I want to prove to myself I can do this!” Alphinaud squeaked. “And I look up to you Ser Estinien- I - I mean Wyrmblood!” 

He felt the anger bubbling in his stomach quell slightly at the young boy’s words. He was still gripping him tightly at the neck like a kitten who was being disciplined by its mother. Letting a deep sigh rumble from his chest he dropped Alphinaud, who stumbled. 

“Fine, boy.” He snapped. “If you wish to pass this term I will give you extra tutoring. If you are as stubborn as me you will take them on. If you are not, then I wish not to see your face in my class again.” 

He looked at Alphinaud, whose face was gleaming with sweat and tears. “Th-thank you Ser!” He gasped, scrambling to find his quarterstaff and lifting it firmly back into his hands. “I will do my utmost best!” 

“Damn right you better, boy!” Estinien growled. His face twisting to stare at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one! However I love the idea of having intervals and weaving together little stories about the characters. I'm finding this world very fun to write! :)
> 
> Once again thank you for all the wonderful comments, please leave one if you are enjoying what you read, I'd love to read your thoughts so far!


	8. Ardour and Adoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ Light looked up at him, laughing, a genuine trilling laugh that filled the room. “A pleasure to see you as always, dear Haurchefant.” He noticed she wasn’t even blushing at his words. A sign that she was comfortable enough in his presence, or rather, he thought, she was now fully immune to his charms. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from Haurchefant's POV about his relationship with the WoL. 
> 
> Very heavy on the friendship fluff in this chapter, but it's something that came very naturally when writing the two of them together!
> 
> _____________________________________________________

“Miss Porrana, I do believe you are correct once again. How splendid you are to have memorised so much for this class!”

A flash of a smile, a tilt of the head.

The miqo’te in the third row of the lecture theatre blushed furiously, giggling like a schoolgirl.

Haurchefant grinned to the rest of the class.

“Pray, I feel before the quiz we are having this weeks end, you should all brush up on your knowledge of Ishgard’s greatest knights and Dragoons, else there is a high chance you shall score low!” He gave a big warming smirk, boyish in nature. “And I do believe I have taught you to the best of my abilities. Don’t let me down!”

A chorus of “We promise we won't Professor!” rang around the theatre.

Haurchefant felt his heart swell. He loved this job. He loved his students. He loved his duty to fill them with the knowledge of knights and combat and chocobos…

He stared dreamily at the ceiling, clenching a quill in his hand as the class bell tolled.

“Ah, remember to hand in your essays before you leave, I shall be providing a new topic next week!”

A heavy pile of parchments towered on his lectern as he shuffled them into his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder and.

His office suddenly felt stuffy, the idea of sitting in there for the rest of the afternoon seemed a little suffocating.

Staring pensively out of the windows, the sky was clear, a wintery horizon of cool sun cast a beautiful light across the city. He smiled, knowing where he should go to find some peace. He gave himself a low chuckle, knowing there was a high chance his dear friend would be there too.

Perhaps, he mused, he was seeking a distraction rather than a means of peace and quiet to mark papers.

\---

_The Stardiver’s Lament_ was a tavern of a small but very cosy nature. In particular, what made this place harbour an interesting character was most it were a corner building, built downwards, and hung on the underbelly of Ishgard. Its large rickety bay windows peered out into the caverns below the city but also glimpsed a beautiful horizon of mountains. At night it was celestial, the view was a dusky blue, littered with rock cliffs, snowy peaks and a glittering basin of stars that twinkled above. The only downside was it would catch the wind, creaking in the cold, but a warm hearth and even warmer company always aided in ignoring it.

For now, it was early afternoon, a warm glow emanated around the worn wooden interior as the sun hit off it. The tavern was one large tiered room, several floors of balconies descended through it’s floors, the windows taking up the entire height of the room.

He found her on the bottom floor, tucked in the corner between two large windows. A large lowset table nestled between two sofas were covered in papers and she was kneeling amongst them, her cloak around her as a means to keep warm. The remnants of a lunch sat scattered on a platter, bits of bread, cheese and various other meats and a generously sized tankard sat next to it.

Haurchefant smiled to himself, feeling an ebb of happiness at the sight of her peacefully working away. A peace he was keen to be part of.

Waltzing over with confidence he peered over her shoulder, then to the tankard.

“My lady, surely it’s a bit early to be imbibing?”

She had sensed his presence immediately, exhaling a small snort and craning her neck around to smile upwards at him. “Drink it.” She said coyly.

He reached down and noticed the tankard was warm. Lifting it up to his lips he took a deep sip and realised it was-

“Oh! Hot chocolate!” He said in surprise. “Surely you would let me make you a better hot chocolate, you were always so fond of them.”

“I had a craving that needed to be satisfied.” She said softly, distracted, standing up and moving around the table, scooping up some papers. As he watched he felt his mind spiral, the urge to say something jokingly dirty came to mind, pushing at his lips which curled up salaciously.

“A craving, I’m always willing to satisfy.” Haurchefant said without a hint of embarrassment, sitting down onto the settee and placing his own paperwork next to him.

Light looked up at him, laughing, a genuine trilling laugh that filled the room. “A pleasure to see you as always, dear Haurchefant.” He noticed she wasn’t even blushing at his words. A sign that she was comfortable enough in his presence, or rather, he thought, she was now fully immune to his charms.

He had lost count of the years they had been friends. Rarely they would meet due to her being busy travelling with the Scions. But when the opportunity came that the threats against Eorzea had waned and she was in want of something different, Haurchefant was more than eager to offer her a position at the University at the behest of his father.

He admired her, almost too much. But it was platonic, simply a fancy he had for those that were strong and wholesome. Though his pull to her was magnetic, her presence intoxicating at times it was because he was weak to her charms… and the only person he was willing to stifle his enamoured state for. As his thoughts returned to Aymeric’s conversation with him weeks ago, truly she was a friend he never wanted to lose and nothing more.

“How are the flowers faring?” Haurchefant asked, sinking further back into the sofa. Light, still sorting papers, a quill in hand as she marked notes replied.

“They are faring well my friend, I am forever gratified by such a sweet gesture.” She peered up at him through eyelashes, simmering golden hues glazed with a hint of humour. “However I may have used a lot of them as gifts for students who did well in my classes.”

He barked a laugh, “Splendid. I dare say the students will start thinking you’re trying to _court them_. They are enamoured enough by your presence!”

She went a little pink in the cheeks, scooping a few stray strands of her behind her ear and she gave him a small glare. “Alas, they are only enamoured by the title of Warrior of Light, my knowledge... and not actually _me_.”

Haurchefant blinked at her, tenting his hands over each other and leaning forward, placing his elbows against his thighs as he looked at her intently. “It’s been over a month since you began here. Pray, I’m sure they are in love with you as a person as well as the title of O Great Warrior of Light.”

“That requires them knowing about me.” She said bluntly “I am forever bound behind this wall that hides me, my title.” Light had finished speaking then looked flustered. She blushed. “Ah, I blurted too much to you once again. If you weren’t so easy to talk to, I would have kept my silence.”

“I know many things about you, and I have an unrestrained adoration for you.” Haurchefant said playfully, leaning back, trying to ease the despondent mood Light had created for herself.

He understood what she meant but truly… _If she just let someone further_ in he mused, _she would see she is loved for who she is_.

“Oh really?” She chimed coyly, “Then what, pray tell are my favourite flowers?”

Haurchefant reeled back, face aghast in mocking as he placed a hand on his chest. “But my dear of course I know the answer! I uh… It's ...” He searched through his mind for past conservations, slithers of hints that would indicate a chance he would guess right. Then he had an overwhelming sense of deja vu… for this was the same turmoil he went through when arranging flowers to be sent to her office…  
Light paced over to him, ruffling his hair lightly as he went red. He didn’t know the answer. He mouthed soundlessly as she looked at him with kind eyes.

“Chrysanthemums. Now you know.” She said simply, giving him a sly wink. Sinking back to the floor right in front of where Haurchefant sat, she busied herself with more marking of papers.

He brushed his hands through his silvery hair gently where she had touched it, leaning one arm on the side of the settee and watched her carefully.

“I take it Professor Aymeric came by to give you his apology?” He chimed, remembering how much his dear friend had flustered at him about it. Haurchefant had found it nothing short of adorable, given she had to endure far worse from himself than the simple folly of a few misexplained sentences when inebriated.

At the mention of his name he noticed she had stiffened by his feet. He couldn’t see her face but she relaxed once again.

“Ah yes he did! It was very nice of him. He is certainly an interesting one isn’t he?” Came her voice, slow with consideration.“He has tried to initiate conversation with me several times, but I’ve been far too busy rushing between classes, I fear we won't have a proper chance to sit down together anytime soon.” He leaned over, glanced at her expression and noticed it looked a little forlorn… only a little…

He smirked.

“Oh I am sure he will find the time. He is not acting deliberate in remiss.” Haurchefant mused. “He has been far too busy dealing with political issues with father in regards to the High House’s council as well as classes. Give it time, you will both find that cherished moment together.” He looked wistfully out the windows, peering across the Coerthas Highlands. “Ahh to see such idle things potentially blossom…”

“Haurchefant.” Light said coolly, leaning into his legs. He felt a sharp nip from his calf and realised she had pinched him playfully “Stop.”

He flinched slightly and snorted. “You are wicked, do not deny me my romantic musings.” He ran his thumb over his lip contemplatively.

“You were always one too interested in the romantic follies of others.” She said, patting his leg before moving around the table, grabbing a small bite of scone and washing it down with more hot chocolate. “Though romance is not something I have pursued in a long while, not since-”

“Ah yes.” Haurchefant said. “You were both young and foolish, and him ever more the fool for falling in love with you.” Haurchefant said. He only knew small snippets of this romantic past, never the full story for she was not one to reveal too much when it came to matters of the heart. He had garnered however that the gist of it was the person in question had fallen for her and it was unreciprocated, something that had torn her apart for it was the one thing she couldn’t return to him, a concept which hurt her greatly.

For Haurchefant, he fully embraced his love for her, but he felt it in a way one would be in love with an entity, someone whose existence enough made him happy. He did not feel the urge to claim her, his feelings were unconditional. He was one for being selfless with his heart, he lived in the moment and in particular this shared moment between him and Light was more than enough for him to feel grateful and at peace.

He trailed his fingers over his face as he leaned into his palm, adoration in his eyes as he continued.

“Though love makes fools of us all. And if I had been acquainted with you all those years ago when it had unravelled, I would have come and swept you away to Ishgard to protect you.”

He felt his stomach tilt when she shot him a hot look. He raised his eyebrows quizzically at her, watching as she rubbed crumbed hands down her skirt and focusing her attention back at him furiously. He adored the way she looked irrationally angry, it was the small way her brows pinched together but her eyes remained wide and round, full of such spirit.

“I do not need protecting.” She stated. “I can care for myself.”

_Stubborn as always_. Haurchefant chuckled internally to himself.

“As you wish my lady, but that won't stop me from caring for you still.” He smiled serenely at his friend, as she narrowed her eyes at him with a grin, then bury herself into a book she was marking the pages for notes.

_Love makes fools of us all_. He repeated in his mind. _Oh what fools we all are_.

He felt drowsy, sunlight illuminating the room with a halo of calmness. Even when a simple set of tea and sandwiches that Light ordered arrived for him he took his time to stir from his stoic pose, letting the lulling tunes that Light hummed quietly as she worked keep him bound in an easily relaxed state.

After a while, Light stopped humming and she looked up at him curiously. Her eyes flashed to his unattended pile of work and back to him and she grimaced. “I gather you will work eventually?”

“Well, yes.” He replied, stirring from his sunken state and leaning forward, reaching to the small side table to pour himself tea.

Light stretched wildly, yawning and cracking her neck. Then in a surprise move as her arms were still in the air she flopped like a large animal onto her back on the rug in front of Haurchefant. He laughed idly, truly she was like a large cat, willing to be comfortable around him and a little more dishevelled than her usual carefully poised appearance.

She heaved a huge sigh as he sipped his tea, watching her stare lazily at the ceiling.

“As much as I am enjoying my position here.” She started, “I really ought to train more, else I’ll grow stale and stiff from lack of fighting.”

“Have the Scions not any recent duties? I know Professor Urianger has been keeping a close eye on things, as well as making sure you don’t get up to too much mischief…_Though I’m beginning to think he lives in the University library now..._”

“Sadly no.” She said, “Even maybe one duty would help this growing tension, nay, frustration I feel building up slowly…” She quickly shot him a hot look for he had opened his mouth “And _before_ you suggest, no it is not in a way that it can be cured in your _bedchambers_.”

He felt a bristling wave of heat wash over him, and he laughed. She had caught him again.

“Perhaps you can train in our gymnasium.” Haurchefant said, clearing his throat as the heat subsided from his face, “I’m sure Estinien would not mind the company and perhaps you could even duel with him to let off some steam.” He curled his hands around his cup as he spoke into it “He doesn’t bite _too_ much.”

Light looked at him from where she lay. He noticed a glint of childish excitement on her features at the prospect of combat. She stretched again, letting out a long yawn and he chuckled at how she rested the back of her arm over her eyes.

“Perhaps I shall indulge in a little bit of training there. Thank you Haurchefant.” She looked thoughtful then asked, “Ser Estinien is a Dragoon is he not?”

“Why yes, if not the Azure Dragoon himself.” Haurchefant said. “I’ve lost track, have you trained in the ways of the Dragoon…” his meandering voice paused as he pressed his tongue against his teeth in contemplation “— _actually_ how many ways of combat are you taught in now?”

“Well, including training as a Dragoon, which I thoroughly enjoyed…” she trailed off.

She lifted her hand silently, mouthing numbers as she counted. He scoffed in delight as her fingers stopped counting on the one hand, then a second finger popped up from the hand rested over her eyes. His chest heaved at the delight of her knowing so many ways of combat, ways to fight, to heal, to protect people— it brought him more bliss than he could imagine, a deep swelling of emotion that made him so proud of her. He adored her. Light. The Warrior of Light.

“By Halone, I could not be enamoured by you any more, even if I tried.”

The words came out instantaneous, an exasperated burst of emotion. He had said things like this before to her and he had forgotten how much it humbled her, triggered her into reacting negatively. Friends actually caring for another friend like family? Apparently the concept suffocated her in her own self deprecation.

Light towered over him, clamping her small hands on either side of his face upon his cheeks. He had clasped his hands over hers but she had immediately applied pressure, he could feel his face squishing and she had that contorted amused but angry expression on her face yet again.

“_Stop_.” She said, trying to bite back a smile. “_Stop_.”

He simply laughed, feeling his chest fill with delight at how wonderfully sweet and silly she was being.

“I would not be a noble knight nor an honest Professor if I did not dutifully inform you of the truth.” He said, trying not to chew on his own inner cheek as he spoke. His lips formed a wide pout as she continued to squeeze his face in annoyance.

“You’re the worst friend ever, you’re not allowed to say things like that. I _forbid_ it.” She kept clamping his face as he tried very little to resist.

He pulled her hands away, moving himself upwards and placed a gentle kiss upon the crown of her head

“My dear, you need to accept how people feel about you and not keep running away from it.” He said, smiling at her as she continued to childishly grumble. “There are people out there who do and _will_ love you and there will be nothing you can do but acknowledge it.”

He was still holding her hands. Her expression faltered. He realised he had chipped at the facade covering her insecurities even if for a brief moment.

“I’m not you though.” She said. He brought one of her hands to his lips to peck and she looked at him despondent.

“I know.” He said. “You’re far better.”

“Less lecherous for a start.” She said thickly.

In reciprocation to her little jest he let go of her hands and immediately brought his own upwards swiftly to envelope each cheek. She let out a muffled cackle as he squished her face.

“You are wicked and mean to your dear friend Haurchefant!” He gasped, chuckling through his words.

\----

“Chrysthanthemums.” Haurchefant blurted to Aymeric, out of nowhere, breaking the dusty silence of the library.

“I’m sorry?” Aymeric said, taking another book from him as he leaned to put it back.

“Her favourite flowers.” Haurchefant said, saying her given name. He watched as his friend’s ears turn red at the mention of it. Aymeric turned to face him, peering over his reading glasses, trying to read Haruchefant’s face, who was smiling broadly.

“I um.” Aymeric stammered, nearly dropping a heavy tome upon his foot and he staggered, gangling like a feral creature as he tried to keep his balance whilst gripping it, catching it mid fall. Haurchefant heard a rumbling cough in the distance, both men looked at each other, knowing full well Urianger had some mystical sense of when a book was at risk of being damaged.

“My friend, normally in this circumstance you would thank me.” He said coyly, his grin widened. Aymeric blinked at him, sliding the tome with great care back onto the shelf before pulling another one out.

“But of course. Thank you Haurchefant.” Aymeric gushed, trying to hide his face as he leaned over the open book in his hands. He watched as the handsome elezen shoved his reading glasses so far up his face he feared it’d go through his head.

“Our fabled Warrior of Light is an enigma.” Haurchefant said, placing a hand on Aymeric’s shoulder. “But if anyone were to take an interest in her, I am full glad it is you my friend.”

Aymeric let out a small stutter, turning to stare at Haurchefant with intense azure eyes. From the pale light of candles littered everywhere he could see he was trying to stifle his flustered expression.

“I am merely in want of getting to know her better as any person would if there were an opportunity for it.”

Haurchefant felt his eyes roll so hard he thought he’d somehow topple some bookshelves with the sheer force it and annoy Urianger.

“But of course, if you say so.” Haurchefant said, sarcastic in tone, patting his friend loudly enough on the back that a sudden ‘_Shhhhhhhhhhhhh!_’ from the disgruntled Astrologian hissed from ten aisles away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come for the Aymeric/WoL, stay for the Haurchefant/WoL friendship fluff.


	9. The Dragon and his Vul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ “Professor, if I may ask...” She began inquisitively, “...Why did Ser Wyrmblood call you Vul? What does it mean?” _
> 
> ____________________

“By the Fury, what do you want woman?” Estinien growled at her.

He watched her with narrowed eyes as she walked up to the weapons rack, gently taking a quarterstaff and inspecting it. “I mean no harm, I simply hoped I could come here and practice. I’m a little rusty. I was told by your friend Professor Greystone I could seek a use of space here.”

There was a wild murmuring among his students and Estinien shot them a deathly stare that immediately shut them up. He felt his heart thump faster, his patience fading from within. “I am not here to teach you. I am here to teach my students.”

The warrior smiled and he scowled at her, wondering why she was looking so calm and complacent. It infuriated him and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was because his imposing presence did not seem to phase her.

“I apologise, you may have misinterpreted my words. I know full well how to fight, I just require a little space to stretch my legs and there is more than enough space for us here to share.”

Estinien continued to scowl at her silently. Her smile faltered and she sighed in defeat. “Okay, forgive me. I shall take my leave, I did not intend to tread on anyone's toes, let alone yours, Ser Dragoon.”

Estinien felt his fingers flex, digging into the palms of his hands.

He watched her casually lay the staff against the wall, ready to make her leave.

He could feel his nails drawing blood. A boiling sensation bubbled through him, a need to compete. A brew of impatience and anger swelled from within, a dangerous concoction that he would relent and drink from. Imbibe.

“Stay.” Estinien said darkly. He watched as she looked at him with those eyes. Those stupid yellow eyes. “If you wish to practice, then practice in combat against me. I am most certain after that you will wish not to grace this gymnasium again.”

He heard his students gasp at his threat. He snapped his neck round to look at them once again, feeling his ears flush slightly. “Shut up and watch.” He quipped, “You will see your so called Professor of Light or whatever you have named is not a true Dragoon, merely a pale pathetic imitation.”

“As you wish.” She said simply, shedding her long coat, and tying her hair up into that dumb messy bun he oft saw her wear.

Underneath she wore black slacks with a loose pale white top tucked in. Leaning down she tightened the straps on her brown leather boots that hugged upwards towards her knees. She then stretched her arms in the air before pacing forward, twirling the staff with ease in one hand.

At first he had ignored the change of pressure in the aether around him when she had first entered the room but now he could feel it. It was boundless, emanating from her in a way it made his muscles flex and tighten under his clothes. It drove him mad with a wild desire to beat her into the ground. To show her where she belonged, to wipe that calm smile of her damn face.

They circled each other, gripping their staffs tightly. He never let his eyes leave hers, his peripheral vision catching traces of her fingers thrumming along the staff, the way she crossed her legs in front of each other as she moved deftly. The sound of boots clicking against the wooden flooring of the gym was the only thing that could be heard above the violent thrum of his heart in his chest, pounding, a war drum rising in a crescendo, pulsating in his ears.

Then they both slowed to a stop. Silence fell across the room. Alphinaud made a small squeak.

The pressure that forced themselves to surge forward was so great it was like a sweeping typhoon of energy, knocking training dolls off their stands, ripping them from their solid foundations. There was a loud THUNK as wood clattered against each other. They ground together as Estinien applied pressure, staring through scornful eyes. She bared her teeth, flashing her eyes dangerously at him in response.

In almost perfect synchronisation they both leapt gracefully and at such speed back, flipping through the air, landing perfectly. Several students clapped, cheering.

Estinien hissed at them and they fell quiet again.

She leapt upwards, disappearing among beams before spiralling down towards him, quarterstaff poised. He ducked, moving swiftly out of her way as she slapped the ground, rolling and swinging her weapon around towards his feet. He jumped, thrusting the staff down and clipped her hair, before swiftly swinging his arms powerfully around for another hit.

He felt contact.

He had managed to get her square in the stomach. She tumbled at speed, fumbling across the wooden floor before she righted herself, sliding to a halt.

He pulled on his aether, applying every strength he had and charged at her, thrusting the staff with great force. He could feel the pressure change in the air around him, surging through his veins. He was going to end this sooner rather than later, prove to his class that some woman. This Professor Light, no, Vul should not be hailed as powerful as people were made to think.

He could see her getting close, he was ilms away and then.

Suddenly she was gone.

He looked down.

Through beads of sweat stinging in his eyes he saw her, she had ducked sideways and below, her staff clenched tightly, the pressure emanating from her was unbearable.

The brief second their stares exchanged he could see it, by the Fury herself he could see the power in her eyes. Like a burning winter sun it flared, piercing through his gut and striking him full with hate.

Hate that boiled and seethed and gripped through every fibre of his being.

She swung her spear round, catching his legs. He toppled, slamming into the ground. Every muscle in his body did not halt, he twisted, spinning back upright and leaping once again into the air.

He could see her follow suit, spiralling upwards as their wooden weapons clashed. He was trying to read her movements quickly, his chest ached from his shallow breathing as each shot clashed. They were in mid air, still endlessly thrashing as they tumbled, bouncing off walls and refusing to touch the ground below.

Then he saw it, the opening in her attacks.

His feet pressed into a beam on the ceiling, his legs crouched, catlike, ready to pounce. She had done the same, he flowed towards her, his vision narrowed and he lurched forward.

In a blink she was gone. He looked up. As if weightless and for a split second, she was standing along the length of the staff. She gave him a dark smirk.

“Too slow my friend.”

It was as if a dark force had pulled him towards the wooden ground below. Violently, something clenched around his stomach, making him feel like his sense of balance had been removed completely. He choked back the vertigo in his mind and in his throat, the sudden need to throw up an overwhelmingly strong feeling in that split second.

Her staff bluntly and with great force came down from above, punching him squarely in the back.

Like a cannon he fell at such speed. He was disoriented, unable to do anything but fall, spiralling towards the ground.

The floor splintered. Fibres of wood scratched and scraped all around him. The thunderous noise of his impact ululated around the gymnasium. The wave of pressure exerted swept some students off the tiered benches where his class sat, all huddled in silent awe.

He had broken through the floorboards, and was now a tangled mess of limbs and planks of wood, shattered into a messy pile around him.

He tasted something copper-like in his mouth and realised his nose was bleeding.

There was a light swirl of air, the sound of boots clicking onto the gymnasium floor.

Looking up, he watched as the Warrior of Light landed gracefully, softly, gently.

She paced over to him, holding the staff out so that it was ilms from his neck. Raising her other arm to her head she brushed her loose sleeve of her white top over her forehead. Smears of blood stained her clothing and she paid it no mind, focusing her eyes upon him. He could feel her stare, it bore into him. Simmering with determination.

Her hair was wild in it’s bun, but began to settle as she smoothed her hair out quickly. A storm beginning to find it’s calm.

“Yield.” She said. Her face glowering at him.

“Never, Vul.” He cursed. The corner of her lip twitched.

“Do so now and your class will see what honour remains in you.” She teased. He spat blood to his side and bared his teeth.

“You absolute wench.” He hissed under his breath. His body ached. He couldn’t move. His aether had run dry.

“Fine… I yield.”

“I didn’t hear you.” She said, the staff moving closer.

“FINE I BLOODY YIELD WOMAN!” He roared. He lifted an arm to his forehead, his cotton shirt mopping up layers of sweat and his own blood. He grunted at her.

Like a switch her hellsbent expression changed, melting into something more calm and stoic. There was a stampede of footsteps as the class surrounded them both. They were murmuring in awe. The words “Wyrmblood” and “Amazing” and “Light” drifted to his ears.

“Let me heal you.” The Professor said to Estinien and he watched as she placed the staff down, making a start of crouching towards him. He threw up an arm to stop her.

“No. Do not touch me woman.” He growled.

“S-S- Ser you’re hurt!” stammered Alphinaud as he brushed through the crowd. Professor Vul turned to look at the young elezen and he slid to a stop in his tracks, going red.

“Will you let Master Alphinaud heal you then?” She said, placing a hand on his shoulder gently, causing the boy to go an even deeper shade of red.

Estinien didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Not today anyway. He leaned forward, groaning slightly as varying levels of aches and pains coursed through him. He sat up, rolling onto a more even part of ground.

Looking up through frayed hair at her he nodded, scowling.

He spat more blood at the ground in front of him.

“Fine. The boy can.”

Alphianud brought his codex out and began to summon magicks to heal Estinien.

He ignored the boy, brewing in his own embarrassment and hatred that began to lessen as his wounds were healed.

He could still hear his class murmuring, and the Professor was still staring at him. He saw out of the corner of his eye as Alisaie had stepped forward, moving to the Professor’s side.

“Professor, if I may ask...” She began inquisitively, “...Why did Ser Wyrmblood call you _Vul_? What does it mean?”

Vul kept her eyes set on him, and let a small smile curl upwards.

“It’s dragonspeak.” She began. “It means dark.”

He felt his stomach jolt as she narrowed her eyes.

“I guess another title I shall adorn, Ser Dragoon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you so much for reading and please leave comments if you enjoyed! 
> 
> We'll be working our way back into more Aymeric/WoL awkward interactions now for a bit!


	10. Birch Syrup and Biographies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ "But for her. He couldn’t place it. He found himself letting his facade slide, much like when he was around Estinien and Haurchefant. The need to be rational would slip, he felt comfortable, collected and yet a little more outgoing and charming in a way it wasn’t mere politeness. It was a new concept, what this curiosity was. It was a snagging of something, drawing him into wishing to know about her. Intrigue, a fascination bordering on obsession." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't kidding about this being a slow burn... this is going be sloooooooow. I'm talking the fires of Mordor burning eternal slow. I can feel my heart straining whilst I'm writing these moments because of how slow burn I made it, hahahaha.
> 
> Aymeric PoV with lots of blushing, slow moments and cautious speech.
> 
> Also throwing a content warning out there saying this chapter has lots of super awkwardness, enough to make you either laugh or cry or both. 
> 
> _________________________________________________

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

But for Aymeric, whom was of a calm and collected stature, found himself that it was _curiosity_ and a need to please that made his chest swell just a little bit each time he had the chance to be in the presence of Professor Light.

Unlike the over zealous nature of Haurchefant and the wild, feral snarling nature of Estinien; Aymeric was more a man of keeping his feelings reserved, or at least only learning to express them when the counsel was required. He was raised to be polite, to follow manners but most importantly, to remain humble. It was why his rather stumbling outlandish behaviour when he was drunk in front of someone he had not met, a lady, the _Warrior of Light_… Had mortified him for days afterwards. It was not gentlemanly of _him_.

But for her. He couldn’t place it. He found himself letting his facade slide, much like when he was around Estinien and Haurchefant. The need to be rational would slip, he felt comfortable, collected and yet a little more outgoing and charming in a way it wasn’t mere politeness. It was a new concept, what this curiosity was. It was a snagging of something, drawing him into wishing to know about her. Intrigue, a fascination bordering on obsession.

But he was a man of control… and control his emotions he must.

Yet how can you control something, if you do not notice it is happening?

Internally, he had found himself unwinding over the long while since they first met.

They were in meetings together, brisk interactions in the hallway. There were private dinners with House Fortemps at the behest of Count Edmont, where she’d laugh and dine and drink and all the while she would engage small chit chat with him. The way he basked in her presence made him wonder… what was she thinking about _him?_

These were all small moments that made him want to extend the length of but thus the fate of he being a man of political counsel to Count Edmont, teaching classes and making very little time to relax and she--

She was the Warrior of Light, a woman bound by duty to be champion of Eorzea, a woman hounded by her students. Yet she remained so sprightly all the time, she was often pulled into extra classes and asked to substitute when possible. A woman after everyone’s heart, it seemed.

Even when seated next to him in those meetings, those dinners, those small hallway moments. She felt worlds apart to him.

And after reading the book she leant him. The tales of her legacy, the four generations including her current and their adventures as the Warrior of Light, the achievements, the excitement, the courage.

It was a world. Her world. He wished to know more of. Was he worthy?

And now…

\---

...And now...

Once again he found himself pausing before acting at the front of her door. Only this was a more personal door, not the frosted glass windowed door of her office. He took a small breath, feeling his cheeks flush at his childish apprehension. His heart hitched a little in it’s chest, clenching itself as it steeled for the interaction that was to take place.

He is simply here, to return the book about the Warrior of Light. Nothing more.

Yet this would be the first time since their first meeting that they would be alone, together.

Haurchefant hadn’t stopped reminding him to return said book until he was actively making his way through the streets of Ishgard towards her house, Haurchefant cheering in the distance.

Lightly, Aymeric rang the bell to her humble abode. It echoed, a spritely jingling that reminded him of her laugh. He felt giddy as moments passed, his breath halted.

There was a shuffling noise, doors creaking, and then the front door swung open.

He immediately bowed to the figure, stuttering an apology for not sending a missive before. The figure laughed.

“Pray, if it is you then I do not mind if you turn up unannounced.” Light chimed. He looked up, his face burning hotly. She was in a simple oversized jumper and woven leggings. She shivered in the doorway, her shoulders bare to the cold. “Do come in, Professor.”

He stepped in, it was a wide short hallway of stone, ornately decorated. He could tell that it was an extension of the Fortemps property for the decor reminded him of the manor. Curved wooden doors led off to various rooms. He slowly shook his cloak off, insisting he hang it himself on the tall coat stand by the door.

“I do apologise for not being more… aptly dressed.” She said, her face a little pink. “But my plans today have been merely living like a vagabond within my own abode.”

Aymeric laughed at her joke.

“It is not an issue at all, my lady.” Aymeric said kindly, his voice low and polite.

_You look… cute._

The words came to his lips but he bit them back with clenched teeth, a smile hiding them.

He noticed the door at the end the other hallway, which was a little higher, was ajar, the hints of a cosy messy studious setting was evident. But she led him to the right of the front hallway, into the parlour.

He noticed she was blushing furiously now.

“I apologise again…” she murmured. “I dismissed the Fortemps housestaff this weekend as I wished to have a little respite for myself.”

The parlour was cosy, a fire danced boldly in the hearth of the great fireplace in the centre of the room. On the low coffee table several maps were strewn out, pins and notes written over them.

“I can’t seem to stay still in one room sometimes.” She said “This place is so big and thus my work seems to spread with me.”

“What is an academic if their work is not the chaos that surrounds them?” Aymeric said lightly, smartly. She lowered her eyes at him and he noticed a lopsided smile tugged at the corner of her face as she went redder.

“Please, sit. I’ll go fetch some tea.” She bustled out of the room hurriedly, the sound of socks against solid stone flooring pattering into the distance.

He went to sit on one of the cosy long sofas, placing the book he had brought with him by his side. Leaning over with ease he glanced at the map, feeling his stomach turn at his sensational need to be curious. He realised she would have surely cleared away the maps if she didn’t want him looking….

“Ah yes, dungeons I have yet to explore.” Came a voice. He swiftly leaned back into the chair, turning his neck to her. “Something I wish to do very soon, I am finding myself getting rather restless between classes…”

She placed a tray of tea and a small selection of cakes down onto the coffee table atop one of the maps. Delicately she laid out saucers and cups and he watched her in silence, the fire cast careful shadows across her face. She caught him staring and he immediately looked away, trying to find something to say.

“Here.” Light said and he looked around. Her finger was poised against a dot on a map, a pin attached to it with messy loops of scrawls etched around it.

“Dusk Vigil.” He said, voice somber in remembrance of the history that surrounded it.

“Inside is a great treasure that belongs to a family. Their honour was taken from them, placed in this statue of Halone without proof it was stolen.” She poured tea as she spoke, the smell of Ishgardian’s finest roused his senses as he leaned forward.

“They have a bounty upon this treasure, however I wish to do it for naught.” Light handed him the saucer then made a small noise. “Ah! I almost forgot. Forgive me!” Like a small excited child she darted to her feet, ambling out of the room at great speed.

She returned, a small familiar looking jar in her hand, the top metal with a slot where a small spoon passed through it. The liquid was pale, yellow like her eyes he noticed, it glistened in the firelight.

Birch syrup.

“Haurchefant suggested I keep stock of this. She said, going red. “I wondered why, but he explained it is something you enjoy so I figured… I should… just in case you… visit...” She had trailed off, a little embarrassed. “I mean it was the off chance that you were to visit, not that I expected it-”

Aymeric chuckled, feeling a prickling in his cheeks as she fumbled over her words.

“You seem to be beginning to know more of me without my realising.” Aymeric crooned, placing the cup down as he spooned a generous amount of the amber liquid into his tea. “Birch syrup is my one vice. A small indulgence in my day.”

_Though seeing you feels somewhat the same._ His inner voice said without a second thought. He felt himself go red.

He noticed she had done so too, as if she could read his mind. He realised perhaps the way he phrased his love for birch syrup was a little more sultry than anticipated.

“That is to say,” he said, startled by her response. “I’m sure there are many unexplored vices in this world.” _What in seven hells was he saying?_ His hand flew to the back of his neck, running downwards and along his neckline as he stared intently into the cup. “Pray, what are yours?”

A small laugh came from Professor Light as he looked up to see she had sunk into the armchair across from him, legs folded up onto the seat. She was observing him with a smile and at his flustered state she couldn’t help but chuckle again at his question.

A question she laughed over, deflecting as if unwilling to answer it just yet.

“Surely you have more than one vice? Or is Aymeric de Borel truly as controlled and tempered by his politeness as they say he is?” She cut through, still smiling. He sensed it,_ would she let him in?_

He felt it like a wave, heat rushing to his ears. He couldn’t help but laugh at her audacity. Say something.

“I’m sure I have my moments,” He began, voice low, honeyed. “Though I must say the state you found me in all that while ago was most certainly a vulnerable moment of my own.” His felt his ears bristle. She leaned forward, looking at him with those wide inquisitive eyes. A pale moonlit stare, curious, making something stir from within him.

“You speak so ill of that night, yet I simply wish I had been there with the three of you, drinking.” A coy grin danced across her features. “Perhaps you will be kind enough to ask me to join you next time.” She gave him a slightly flirtatious smile. He felt like someone had sunk a sword through him, fresh from the forge, white hot, heated, intense.

He watched as her smile faded and she blinked, noticing how red he was and she swallowed. Before he could respond, she had changed the topic. It was as if she realised she had reached out too far. He could see it, her actions seemed easily readable and he wanted to simply grab her hand in his mind's eye and twirl her around, telling her she’s allowed to be flirtatious and outgoing to him, to feel free to say whatever she may wish to him… _Pray, indulge me._

“Oh? So did you read the book then?” Professor Light chimed, standing up, taking the worn book from where he had placed next to him on the sofa and flicking through it idly as she moved towards the light of the fireplace. “I always admire how they really captured my Great Grandmother with such beauty in this sketch.” She said, smiling.

“I did,” Aymeric said, pausing. He too stood up and made his way over. He placed his hand behind his neck, scratching it, again. That nervous tick. “And truly you are a remarkable woman. I feel I know more about you than I did prior.”

She made a small noise as he spoke and she looked at the floor, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face. She cleared her throat.

“Oh but those are only my deeds.” She said, “What about my favourite colour? Or my favourite flavour of cake? Or what I like to do when I have time to spare.” She smirked, looking up at him with a roguish expression “I appear to people only as the avatar that book so greatly describes. No one tries to look beyond the title, the veil and what lies beneath.”

Her tone was amused, but beneath it lingered a slight sad note of disappointment.

Aymeric felt his stomach knot, twisting wildly and he furiously searched the palace within his mind for a way to turn the situation into something more favourable.

“Well if you would permit me--” He said, leaning closer to her, taking the book from her hand and lightly placing it upon the mantlepiece. She looked up at him in surprise, he noticed her face tinged slightly at how he encroached on her personal space. “I wish to know more about you.”

There was a small pressure of a hand upon his torso, it was lightly pushing him to a stop in his tracks for he was closing the space between them. His blue shirt crinkled slightly, his chest hitched at the slight feeling of her fingers pressing into his abdomen.

“In time, Professor de Borel.” She responded to him softly, her breath pausing and he felt his heart throb at her touch. “Pray, these things require time, I find it hard to simply… open up to people.”

Aymeric held his breath, she was looking at him, her eyes distant, reproachful. In that instant he didn’t know what to do, what to say without being too intrusive. His lips parted, deciding on what words to speak.

“Well-” he began but that was all he could manage.

For in the next moment there was a loud crashing as a drunk Dragoon flew through the window at great speed, rolling through furniture and coming to a violent stop against a wall. Glass shattered everywhere, catching the light and glinting dangerously as it flecked across the room. Light made a loud noise of surprise, which had been cut short by Aymerics sudden instinctual need to protect the woman in front of him. He had grabbed her, pulling her close to his chest and she had squeaked, wiggling slightly at the sudden motion. She was a muffled mess of white hair splayed against his deep blue shirt.

“WOMAN.” Bellowed Estinien, rising like the undead to his feet. He stumbled, clattering into a table, knocking objects everywhere. “I WANT A REMATCH. AN HONOURABLE REMATCH, _VUL_”

As if this chaos was not enough, there was a loud crashing noise from the hallway as the front door burst open. Haurchefant in a blur of silvery hair and yellow and black coattails spiralled into the room, doubling over to catch his breath.

“Pray… forgive… intrusion.” He panted madly “I had to come heed warning… Estinien… drunk… challenge….”

“Yes it seems you are a little too late my friend.” Aymeric said, keeping a rather chill demeanor. He felt something grip his clothes.

He looked down, his shirt had been crushed tight, pulled taut against his back.

Light was staring furiously ahead into his chest. Her face a beautiful shade of burgundy. Her hands were balled into fists and it was as if she were a frightened animal, having a sensory overload that caused her to shut down temporarily.

“My lady are you?... My lady?” Aymeric said quietly, letting his low voice rumble from his chest. She blinked once or twice, jolting back to her senses.

“Oh! Um yes.” She said, and he unfurled his arms, freeing her from his grip. In a small whisper she spoke to herself, still dazed. His ears pricked as he caught the gentle tones of her voice, barely audible.

“You smell… so nice.”

He was winded by her words. She noticed he had heard her and she quickly turned her attention elsewhere, focusing on the mess of the drunk Dragoon before her and the destroyed furniture, shattered crockery and papers, scattered like dead leaves across the parlour.

“Estinien I beseech you, please leave.” Aymeric watched as she cast a furious glance at Haurchefant too. “Please, please go. Infact...”

His heart fell as he sensed her defensive wall slide back quickly into place. She pinched the bridge of her nose in one hand, patiently smiling slightly.

“It is rather late and I do require some rest. So it may be best you all leave.”

Haurchefant bowed deeply, his apologies came forth like a long tumbling of sincere rumblings. He reached out to comfort her but before he could even reach her there were feral footsteps, and a large ball of silvery hair and broad shoulders had towered over the poor woman.

“WE MUST FIGHT.” Estinien bellowed, though he needn’t have since she was within several ilms of him. Her eyes had closed and she put on a complacent smile.

“If you so wish.” She said firmly. Haurchefant tilted his head, eyes widening.

Estinien wavered on the spot. His hellsbent expression softened.

“Wait, really?” He was very drunk, even Aymeric could smell the cloud of stale ale that drifted in a long lingering trail from the Dragoon.

“Well, yes. You need only have asked when you were less indisposed to alcohol.”

He looked surprised, like an animal caught in sudden lamplight.

“Very… well.” Estinien said, perplexed. “I shall send a missive of when we shall fight, _ Vul. _”

“Come come now, dear Estinien, you are tired and I daresay require something that is a little less alcoholic to drink…” Haurchefant placed an arm around the bewildered Dragoon, escorting him from the premises. He cast a warm smile over at Aymeric.

“Come, Aymeric, our friend requires our aid.”

Aymeric nodded, gathering his belongings and stepping through the door away from the warmth and into the wall of cold that greeted him.

“Green tea.” Came a soft voice.

“Oh?”

“My favourite cake.” Light tilted her head at him, smiling tiredly, her hand on the door.

“Oh. Oh!” His face lit up. “Wonderful.”

At that the door snapped shut gently. Aymeric paced slowly away, watching as Haurcehfant carefully lugged Estinien along the stone pathway and descend some stairs that swirled down towards The Pillars. Flurries of snow began to cascade across the grey shadows of buildings, Aymeric pulled the collar of his cloak up, tightening the hold of his scarf around his neck.

And in that moment, something clicked. As if with age it were something his young teenage self would have recognised instantly but as a man of two and thirty winters…

Like a doe eyed puppy enjoying snow for the first time, he realised this was a crush. A childish, dreamy crush that soaked his very being in cloyingly sweet notes of giddiness and delicious ardour. It made his chest whirl, breathless, unable to think clearly without needing to grasp at thoughts like he was caught in a sudden summer breeze, swirling in a haze of warmth and comfort and wholesomeness-

_Ah to feel young again._

It was foolish, to feel such things as an adult, he felt. But somewhere a part of his mind was telling him he was allowed more than a simple few indulgences in his life...

His mind was racing, the first thing he needed to early in the morn was make haste to the library. His culinarian mind swelled into action.

He had recipes he wished to research.

\-------

“Professor, what type of cake do you like?”

“Oh, um, green tea I must say. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, we caught Professor de Borel researching cake recipes in the library, specifically green tea variations.”

“I see.” She turned to face the chalkboard again, hiding her flushed expression.

Her students had crowded around the chalkboard at the end of the classroom, motes of chalk swam lazily through the air in dense clouds as she wiped the board down.

“What about your favourite Moonfire Faire drink?”

“Um, pink lemonade?”

“And your favourite past time?”

She stopped, turning and placed chalky hands against her hips, frowning slightly.

“Why do you persist in questions of a personal nature?” She said, hiding any hints of amusement in her voice.

“We want to know more of our favourite Professor, much like Professor de Borel is clearly trying to do.” They chimed. Several female students giggled, a few of the guys were staring furiously at her, blushing with such intensity she thought they might explode like a cherry bomb if she did not answer their queries.

She was taken aback a little, tilting her head to one side and smiling in response. Facing the blackboard again she took a piece of chalk between her fingers and began to swiftly write details about the topic of today’s lesson she was teaching in long scrawls across the worn surface.

“Back to your seats, class.” She said bluntly and the scraping of chairs and tables ensued as everyone clambered into the benches. The shuffling of leather and paper could be heard as they opened their books. You would think young adults would be more polite in their nature, she thought, lying to herself. She had not been like that in her past.

“And I like to take an afternoon nap.” She stated, still facing the board as she paused mid scrawl.

Whether it was the loose chalk or not, she did not question it, but her eyes watered slightly. A small swelling in her chest grew a little. She felt flattered, humbled that people wished to know more of her.

_Aymeric you foo_l. She thought, trying to wrestle down the grin that was furiously trying to wrangle its way across her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading and as always feel free to comment!


	11. Blue, Gold and Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ She was not immune to the charms of people doing nice things for her. Often when she remained at the Rising Stones with the Scions people would gift her things. In particular Tataru took great pleasure in making outfits for her adventures in a way a mother would fuss over her own. The Leveilleur twins (in their much younger days of joining the Scions) would often draw or bring back gifts to her. They saw her like an older sister._
> 
> _Past romances, or attempts at courting her, gifts would consist of jewels or valuable artifacts. Nothing handmade._
> 
> _Nothing like- _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More rambling awkwardness! From the PoV of the WoL and Aymeric and features cake, backflips, coffee and a lot of blushing!

It started with a coffee.

It was early morning. Too early in fact.

Light was sitting in her office, a premature sun cast golden outlines on the windows behind her reflecting that dewy morning look, casting fresh amber glows across the room.

She had some paperwork to catch up on before some private tutoring sessions with select students. Then, a day of classes and lectures. She yawned heavily, making a sucking noise through her teeth with her tongue, stretching.

She leaned back in the chair, letting her limbs relax as she sunk down, enjoying a moments break between staring at scrawly handwriting of various styles.

Glancing to her right, she let her thoughts drift to a few nights ago when Aymeric paid her a visit. The way he towered over her, pressing into her space, asking to be let in.

It made her nervous, but in a way that it was delirious, an excitement, a fear. It was an eclectic mix that coursed through her. The way he made her stomach twist and writhe when he pulled her against him. His scent, a deep clean mix of spices and fresh winter air.

Light felt her chest heave, her heart thrum ever so slightly in response to her thoughts. He was alluring, like a dangerous flower she wished to near, but cautious if she handled it the wrong way it’d all fall apart. So she had to keep a careful distance. For now. Maybe.

_Just a small crush. She thought. Nothing serious._

_It will pass._

At various points since she broke someone’s heart, she always harboured small, idle… crushes on people. It was normal,_ we are only human after all_, she thought.

Her worldview of such things were... they were a passing folly, a delightful dessert, a small moment in time that would fade away like anything. Though she didn’t know how long she’d be at the University, probably years. Therefore, she would enjoy this crush as much as she could, quietly. Reservedly. She felt the anxiety lurch at her throat. She was scared to let him in.

Perhaps, it was because she didn’t want what happened last time to happen.

But it was a crush and like a drug, she would enjoy it while it lasted.

Though she would come to learn in time, the handsome elezen was making it quite difficult for her to be able to be _restrained_ in her complacent behaviour.

As if on cue, there was a swift tapping against the frosted window of her office door. She jumped slightly, clearing her throat, rubbing her eyes gently and called “Come on in!”

Then he appeared. Tall, moving with such grace through the door. A mop of raven black hair framing those azure eyes. The princely figure.

Light mentally slapped herself, making a small note to stop internally profiling him.  
He was smiling at her, that stupid, beautiful smile. Those full lips- _no_.  
“Ah good morning, I noticed you had come in early and felt it with great import to bring you a little something to pick you up.” He indicated to the large ornately detailed metal pot he was holding, the bitter yet warm comforting smell of coffee wafted into the room.

Light felt her eyes widen, drawn like a creature to the scent.

“I uh,” She stumbled “Why thank you Aymeric, that is awfully kind of you.”

The small clinking of cups could be heard as he fussed over the counter nestled between shelves near her desk. Slowly he moved towards her, placing the cup down.

“I hope it is to your liking. May I?” Aymeric said, bowing to the chair. She nodded as she clasped the cup gently, blowing on it as he took his own. She paid no mind to him watching her through his long eyelashes, observing for a reaction. She wondered why, it was simply coffee-

But it wasn’t _just_ coffee.

The silken black liquid splayed across her tongue as she sipped...and immediately she was met with a swirling sweet warmth that coated her tongue. It was sweet, so beautifully sweet but paired with the dark bitter notes of coffee it was like a gorgeous harmony, a delicate dance of flavours that caused her to make a small noise. She could feel the notes, a rapturously delightful waltz that faded away as she swallowed.

“This is… decadent.” She gasped, her eyes trying to stop themselves from closing, to sink into the bliss of such flavours. “Aymeric what is this?”

He was grinning at her.

“Birch syrup.”

_This crush. This one indulgence in her day. Okay. she’ll accept it._

\----

Then came the cakes.

She was in the mailroom, a large grandiose corridor of pigeon holes, all with different names on plaques beneath them. She traced her finger to her given name, gently taking the mail from it. Swirling on the step she walked away then paused, looking at Aymeric’s one.

Her hand hovered, she bit her lip.

Then she took the stuffed pile of mail from its place and tucked it under her arm.

As she paced down the corridor, her heels clicking against the marble, she felt giddy. It was as if there was a lack of air to her lungs, her head spun but it wasn’t scary, it was a light happy feeling.

Then the anxiety plunged a small cold hand into her chest, grabbing her heart and twisting it.

She paused. _Maybe he doesn’t want to see me._ She pondered, her fingers running over the letters in her arms, letting the fibre of the paper soothe her.

_What am I doing?_

This isn’t keeping a cool collected demeanor.

She was near the door. Two statues of knights stood nearby, she looked at them for distraction. Maybe she could turn back now.

_By the Twelve_.

Her hand was on the door.

_I could still turn back._

The noise of her knocking against the frosted glass seemed to be muted slightly in her ears. She felt a flash of heat course through her, suddenly cooling as she felt her whole body freeze up.

No one answered.

He wasn’t in.

Relief. Sweet relief. She would have made a fool of herself anyway.

_Enjoy the beautiful ones from afar._ She thought. Glad she was given this blessed opportunity to step back._ Praise Halone._

She turned sharply, ready to run, no, briskly walk away with composure. Her chest felt like one thick swirling string of aether was pulled taut, tightening with each breath she took.

Then the beautiful disaster happened.

It was so fast.

Blood had been pounding in her ears like a thick drumbeat she had not heard the footsteps approach her.  
As she turned sharply, suddenly, she pressed into someone, flush, against their body. Something crumpled between them. She looked up, eyes trailing to those full lips where a simple deep gasp escaped from.

Those blue eyes, they were peering down at her, wide. Lustrous jewels dancing under a dark smoulder. She blinked. Aymeric.

“My lady.” He breathed.

She felt something cool against her. She looked down, dropping the mail everywhere as her hand went slack.

Several layers of thick parchment had been formed into a large box. Well had been. Slightly peeking from among the folds were another colour. Light pastel green, a sweet scent muddied with earthy smells. Hints of gravelly green sponge crumbled between the clumps of sweet icing. The box that housed them was crumpled.

Then the string snapped, her chest exploded, she could feel it, the sudden contact had plucked it too hard.

Almost as soon as it happened she jumped away. Like a feral cat who had been surprised.

Dragoon like reflexes she almost forgotten she had kicked in. Within a few moments, Light realised she had actually leapt a fair distance away from Aymeric, perfect backflip included. Sliding to a stop on her heels upon her landing she looked up.

He was staring at her in awe.

She felt the blood drain from her body, embarrassed. Short, sputtering breaths came from her nose from the fright she had received as her body felt tense, poised as if under threat.

Then she saw, as his eyes crinkled and he _laughed._

He simply laughed.

It didn’t sound like it was of mockery or malicious intent. It sounded pure, joyful, delight. His voice was sultry, delicious, like a hot chocolate.

“Incredible. Pray forgive me, I didn't mean to laugh. But I daresay that’s the finest reaction to a fright I’ve ever seen.” He said as she stood in his office as he placed his mail upon his desk. His eyes never left her. He was grinning. It was pure elation.

She was in freefall.

She had apologised profusely for causing damage trying to keep her composed veil in place. But the anxiety that swirled in her stomach, or maybe it was gut instinct at this point, told her that he could see past it. He could see beneath it even if only a little.

He walked over to where she sat by the small table and reached past her towards the dishevelled remains of the box, leaning close . “It appears, one survived.” He said, voice low, his breath near her ear. She could feel his smile radiate from his face.

From the remains, he pulled a cake out. A small square slice, perfectly formed. It was a beautiful light forest green in colour, a neat decoration of frosting iced perfectly on top. It was nestled in a beautiful crinkled crepe paper decoration, a deep black in colour, with gold embellishments.

Her breath stopped. He was crouching closer.

“For you, My Lady.”

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.  
“Aymeric,” She said. She pulled at strings of words to form in her mind, to grab a hold of the situation. A sentence formed, witty and sarcastic. She’ll start there.

“Pray you didn’t have to actually follow through with my favourite cake.” She said coyly, taking the slice into her hands and smirking at him. He emit a small chuckle, sliding into the seat next to her, further away, respecting her space. “Let me know what you think.”

She could feel those cool eyes watching her, a steely gaze of anticipation. It reminded her of when he had brought her the coffee not a few days ago.

She brought the delicacy to her lips and took a small tender bite. The sponge was soft, icing light, smooth with a hint of graininess to it’s texture.

Then the flavours kicked in.

A beautiful composition of earthy sweetness, mingling deliciously with something else, a slight tartness bursting through to balance out the flavour. It tingled on her tongue. Lemon. The icing was perfect, creamy, mellowing out the overall balance of everything and making her feel like she had tasted comfort itself in a slice of cake.

“By the gods.” She gasped, swallowing. “Where in seven hells did you procure this? It’s simply marvellous.” She tried to think of the bakeries Haurchefant had purchased cakes for her welcome tea.

Aymeric shuffled slightly, he had laid back a little, arm relaxed coolly across the top of the sofa as he gazed at her. At the mention of her question she noticed he tensed slightly, bringing his free hand up to scratch his face, pausing as fingers lingered on his lips. A tinge of pink began to blossom in his ears as he looked away from her towards the fireplace.

“I apologise.” Light said, suddenly alarmed. “Aymeric have I said something wrong?”  
“Not at all my lady.” He started, still looking away, “Twas not a bakery I procured them from but in fact…” he cleared his throat then looked at her, “...they are a creation of my own making.”

Her heart judderd to a stop. As the remaining notes of flavour dissipated from her tongue she looked at the fireplace herself, wondering if it was lit for the temperature of the room suddenly soared by far too much. It was as if she was standing next to Ifrit himself.

She was not immune to the charms of people doing nice things for her. Often when she remained at the Rising Stones with the Scions people would gift her things. In particular Tataru took great pleasure in making outfits for her adventures in a way a mother would fuss over her own. The Leveilleur twins (in their much younger days of joining the Scions) would often draw or bring back gifts to her. They saw her like an older sister.

Past romances, or attempts at courting her, gifts would consist of jewels or valuable artifacts. Nothing handmade.

_Nothing like-_

“You made this… for me?” She finally said, breaking the awkward silence between them. Still red, he nodded quietly, his hand moving to the back of his neck as he feigned to look at her from his moment of humbleness.

_He_ made her this. _He._ _Aymeric de Borel._.. _made_ her this.

“My lady if it’s too much I can, I can-” Aymeric said, trying to find the words to convey what she could tell he was struggling to admit.

“No.” She said. Smiling at him, peering up towards him as her fingers gently played with the edges of the crepe paper housing the cake slice. “I’ve just never had someone do this for me before. It’s awfully too kind of you.”

_Really, he’s being too nice. It’s just a crush and he’s being nice_. The anxiety came back.

“I… am… I am sorry, it’s … too kind of you. I feel very undeserving.” Light said, fiercely staring at the floor. “I need to, I need to return the favour!” His face looked a little confused.

_Why in bloody hells did you say favour?_

“I mean, um, my appreciation. It is honestly… the nicest thing…” she trailed off. Words failing her.

He smiled at her kindly and he spoke, his voice rolling and filled with genuine noble tones.

“I am glad you enjoy it but pray, you do not have to do anything in return.” He said selflessly.

She thought her eyes would burn a hole through the cake as she glanced back down at it fiercely, feeling her stomach twist and knot at the gesture.

How do I show him? What am I showing?

The taut line of aether had restrung itself in her chest, several more had formed, nestling around her heart, ready, like a trap set.

\---

Haurchefant patted Aymeric fiercely on the square of his back. His shite eating grin was like a cunning creature that took great pleasure in the story Aymeric told him.

“Such a flighty being, our delightful Warrior of Light.” Haurchefant said, leading Aymeric through some double doors and down a narrow corridor. It passed through an archway which opened out to a well lit corridor filled with archaic paintings of Coerthas. The air was thick with the smell of old wood, old paper and a dry sharp smell of wax.” They were in the lecture theatre area of the University.

“But, she loved it.” Aymeric said. “The cake... her expression when she took a bite...”

“Of course she did.” Haurchefant chortled. “She’s probably enchanted by you and just doesn’t know how to deal with it. My dear Light is a wonderful woman but I have a feeling she’s never truly experienced what it’s like when someone _really_ shows interest in her on such a level as making her _favourite_ cake-

“Haurchefant, you are a close friend but I daresay we cannot read the minds of others.” Aymeric said. “I am beginning to doubt she is willing to be a friend or acquaintance.”

“Yes, because you made that cake to gain her audience as a _friend_.” Haurchefant laughed, rolling his eyes, his voice loud and echoing down the hallway. “At least say companion if you so wish to be by her side in a way that isn’t of a romantic nature.”

Aymeric ran his hand through his hair, tilting his head to look at his friend.

“I’m afraid I should dull my _teenage like desire_ to gain her approval.” He said awkwardly, wondering why Haurchefant was peering through windows into lecture halls, pressing into the glass as they sauntered down and then muttering to himself quietly. “Pray, is something amiss?”

“Oh, not at all dear friend.” He chimed in response. “Infact…”

Haurchefant slowed to a stop outside another set of windows, then turned fiercely to Aymeric, grabbing his wrist. “With me!”

Aymeric wondered what on earth he was doing, to intrude on a lecture. Slowly, he nimbly opened the door, turned to hush Aymeric with a finger to his lips before they crouched and ducked into the theatre. A familiar, delicate voice rang through the room. As soon as it met Aymeric’s ears he felt the lower part of his abdomen jolt in reflex, upon realising what Haurchefant was doing.

“Let’s admire your _friend_ from afar for a bit.” Haurchefant winked at him, as they slid into a row of seats at the very top. The light was dim, and it appeared that Professor Light had paid no mind to the two of them as they entered. Haurchefant whispered excitedly that she had probably not noticed them enter. They hid in the upper shadows of the theatre, lurking in the background.

“As you can see,” She said, swirling her hand as the aetheryte projector made another image slide into view “The damage done to the Moon Gates from the liberation of Doma Castle wasn’t as severe as the damage caused to the castle, which in an attempt to add to the raid, was flooded.” Upon the screen a large image appeared, red walls and towering slanted roofs were submerged under a swathe of water. Several students murmured, making notes.

“You were there weren’t you.” A student chirped, and Aymeric noticed she looked a little surprised at the question. “Ah yes I was, Phillian.” She said. “It was a very intense time for Doma and the Garleans.”

“If you could share more experiences from Doma that would be amazing.” The elezen said and several more students murmured in agreement. Aymeric noticed her face went a little pink as she blushed.

“If that’s what you’d like to hear.” She said. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to know about?” Silence fell across the class as people contemplated what to say.

“Oh oh oh_ I_ know!” Alisaie called, thrusting her hand high in the air, almost falling over the table. “I’m sure dear Alphinaud would like to know about the culture, particularly customs when it comes to gifts and _courting_ in Doma.”

A sweep of quiet giggles wove its way through the theatre. Aymeric peered down. Through the dim light of the room, among the motes of dust, he could see the young elezen hissing furiously at his sister, sinking slowly into the chair as a means to hide from everyone.

“Poor boy.” Haurchefant said in a hushed whisper, “Young Alphinaud harbours a little crush on our Professor, though I’m sure you still have a solid chance.” Aymeric felt Haurchefant shake from quiet laughter. In a moment that reminded him of his days at Camp Dragonhead, with great ease and stealth, he grabbed Haurchefant around the neck and began to violently rustle his hair, stifling him.

“Unhand me, you fool!” Haurchefant choked, muffled laughter came from Aymeric’s chest as Aymeric continued.

“Customs in Doma?” Light said, her voice snapped the two elezen to attention again.

“Well, when it comes to gifts, it is not so different to our own. Though they take great pride in gifting things for their potential partners to use, or to wear. Ornate artifacts handed down from generations are often gifted, or even something they’ve made themselves often embellished with the colours of the courter’s clan, house or lineage.”

Aymeric noticed she spoke with more confidence than their awkward cake encounter the day prior. She looked whimsical, smiling with that radiant smile as she explained more to the class.

“Doesn’t she look wonderful today, I’d say your cake had a positive impact on her.” Haurchefant sniggered, giving him a small nudge. Aymeric took a light inhale of air and looked down through the theatre towards her proper.

Professor Light wore a tunic of black chiffon, long flowing sleeves with slits in them draped over her arms. Gold detailing ran down her leggings, tucked neatly into her knee high boots. Her hair was scooped back into its usual messy bun. But this time. This time…

His breath choked in his throat. A column of excitement punched through him like a brilliant surge of energy.

It’s colours caught the light of the projector as she turned.

A silken handkerchief held all her hair into place. It’s colours blue gold and black. He squinted his eyes to make it out.

Yes, it was _his pattern_.

It was the one he had given her the first day they met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, please comment below if you enjoyed!


	12. Careful and Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ “Is this… are you sure you should do this?” He began. “Estinien and I are… I know him full well. He is not one to hold back.”_   
_She felt her lips part, unsure where to begin with her response. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More awkwardness, more slow burn!  
Also some Alphinaud and Urianger! Unlike Alisaie, I feel Alphinaud is learning to overcome a lot of his own issues during his time here.
> 
> __________________________________

“Haurchefant, you wicked being, please stop sitting in on my lecture, pray, this is the third time this week…”

Haurchefant laughed, leaping down the stairs like an excited child and skidding to a stop at Professor Light’s lectern. She scowled at him. Then she noticed the other elezen gentleman behind him, descending from the stairs above. She felt the blood pool in her face. He was as wonderful as ever, donning a white shirt, tucked behind a suave velveteen blue jacket, gold and black trimmed along the lapels. He looked breathtaking. Always smartly dressed. Wait, she was thinking about his clothes-_ stop-_

“A dazzling lecture as always my dear, every word building an enchanting medley of beautiful composed sentences. My enchantress— “ Haurchefant warbled, taking her hands.

“Haurchefant.” She said, exhausted. Aymeric laughed. She made a small face at him in jest “...and you... are not any better, sneaking in to watch me teach.”

He put his hands up in defense and chuckled.

“I am merely victim to Haurchefants will.” He said, trying to hide his smirk “If the son of the esteemed Rector Count Edmont Fortemps requests I partake in your lectures with him then who am I to deny.”

She blushed madly, “You both come to distract me, not learn anything from my lectures.”

“Pray, I feel for both of us it is you who is the distraction—“ there was a bolt of magick as she launched a White Mage spell, Glare, at him, twinkling stars that swiftly swam past his head as he ducked. “Ok, ok! I take my leave. Aymeric?”

“If I may, I require to have a few words with the lady by herself if you shall permit?”

“But of course, I will see you in the staff common room for lunch.” Haurchefant bowed to Light, patted Aymeric on the shoulder, muttering something into his ear that made Aymeric blush before finally sauntering upwards and out of the theatre.

Aymeric turned to her, suddenly her ease had tightened again. It wasn’t nerves, it felt more how strongly his irresistible pull seemed to magnetise her heart in ways she couldn’t stop staring at him. It was dangerous. She could feel her heart nearing one of the taut strings from within its cage. A trigger. Waiting. A faint sense of spice, warmth, fresh, pine like wafted near her. She felt her toes curl in her boots.

“My lady” he bowed deeply “I see you have but a rather beautiful decoration for your hair.” She felt her smile go lopsided, his silken voice entailing a sentence of playful teasing “Pray, where did you procure such an item?”

“Aymeric.” She said, heat blossoming in her ears. “Seven hells you know damn well where I had received this!”

He let out a low laugh, staring at his feet, shuffling close. “But of course I do.” He tilted his head up, “And dare I say you look a picture of perfection.”

She grinned furiously.

There it was. The comfort between them. It was slight… but it was there. Like two people finding their feet together in a dance, a gentle melody that they were beginning to sync to.

Together.

For it to then fall apart before the song had even fully began.

The catalyst of this unsyncing, a note.

“Ah, a certain dragoon stopped by my window to insist I deliver you this.” She watched as he fumbled into his pocket, pulling a small rolled piece of parchment out.

She felt her heart stop. The aether projector next to her cut out, plunging them into dimness as her concentration ability to control magicks shut down with her reaction.

“Ah.” She took it gently and thanked him. She could feel the apprehension in his eyes as she unfurled it. Aymeric had been there with her when Estinien had demanded…

“It’s the rematch.” She said slowly, her voice quiet and dry “He insists we fight in full armour too…”

Aymeric had stepped even closer. In the pale dim of the room, only the soft sunlight hazily cast from the windows at the entrance pooled in. He stood, his outline a soft halo as his azure eyes looked cautious, concerned.

He said her given name, catching her off guard.

“Is this… are you sure you should do this?” He began. “Estinien and I are… I know him full well. He is not one to hold back.”

She felt her lips part, unsure where to begin with her response.

\------

A crumpled body on the ground.

It was Professor Light. Her white hair blossomed with thick pools of blood.

A wild roar, the beating of wings.

A pulsing heart in his own rib cage, hammering.

Alphinaud stood upon frozen plane of ice, an angry dragon swelled before him. He was fully clad in deep purple armour, lance held threatenly in hand. He charged over, swinging his lithe figure at the creature, the lance came down, swift, cutting through the air at great speed, sweeping at its face before-

“Prithee, Master Alphinaud, hast thou drifted into slumber in mine class?”

He snorted, jolting awake. A thin line of drool was upon the pages of his tome, sticky against his hand and ending where it began, his mouth. He looked wildly around for a moment, several of his classmates were giggling, whispering and confirming that he had indeed, drifted to sleep.

“I- I- Apologise Professor Auguerelt!” Alphinaud stammered, wiping his face, hastily grabbing his quill and shifting a piece of parchment across his book, poised, ready to take notes. “Won't happen again Ser.”

Professor Augurelt’s bemused stare bore into him. With a flick of his grey hair he turned back to peer down at the notes. The dim ambience of the theatre was a light blue as the Professor used aether magicks to project astral diagrams upon the large screen that stood towering behind his lectern.

“As I was saying.” He cleared his throat, dipping his finger to then activate another pattern to sweep across the screen, “If one takes note of these occurring astral patterns, thou will see that the crossover between planes have a great significance in discerning the language of our magicks-”

Alphinaud felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards as he remembered fondly of when his fellow Scion, Thancred would often fall asleep at Urianger’s lectures in the Rising Stones. Now it was his turn to... and in a far more academic setting so it seemed.

Urianger’s residence at the University had been long, before even he and Alisaie had thought to even enroll as they neared one and twenty years. Y’shtola had explained to the twins it was good Urianger was there as he could keep a watchful eye over them, but more importantly she had requested Urianger keep an eye on Warrior of Light. And so he was a contact point for the Scions within the University.

Clear as day, the end of class bells tolled throughout the university, ringing through wood and thundering like a joyous cry of celebration as students excitedly began to clamour of the lecture theatre, excited to begin their two day break from classes at the week’s end.

“Master Alphinaud” came the deep rolling voice of Professor Augurelt from behind him. Alphinaud looked up as he packed his bag to see the tall muscled elezen walk towards him. His Astrologian robes flowed around him. With a sharp snap his planisphere folded up and he tucked it into his belt.

“It is not oft thou hast been worn and weary in my classes. Pray tell will this be something thou hath intended will become a regular occurrence?”

He felt himself blush, finding the right words.

“Of course not, I sincerely apologise.” Alphinaud said, looking at the floor. “I am simply adjusting to my extra classes with Ser Wyrmblood for lance training is all.”

“Ahhh, Estinien Wyrmblood.” Professor Augurelt paused, and Alphinaud watched as he rested his elbow on his hand, striking a thoughtful pose. “Surely thou would be better suited to a class like Ser Greystone’s? Something a little less… arduous?”

Alphinaud felt a tight heat rise through his chest and he clenched his fists in shame. “No, I am sure, like my sister, I am capable of handling this.”

“If thou sayest so, in these circumstances and given the person in question however, one might find it that is an acceptable thing to not continue training with someone so temperamental.”

Alphinaud blinked, looking up. “I’m sorry?”

“Ah, I have spoken too much.” Professor Augurelt flicked a hand dismissively, “I shall not spread slander from my lips. However thou should take heed and be careful young Master. It would not bode us well if a fellow Scion was to wear themselves out too soon in their studies.”

“Professor Light managed to beat him and was fine and she’s a Scion.” Grumbled Alphinaud childishly. Professor Augurelt lowered his eyes at him, knowing full well Alphinaud was aware how foolish he sounded.

“Alas, also the Warrior of Light.” He said dismissively. “Though I fear mine instincts harbour a strong feeling that she will be getting herself into something dangerous very soon in regards to Ser Wyrmblood.”

Alphinaud tilted his head to the side for Urianger had trailed off in the latter part of his ramblings. He quickly looked back at Alphinaud and waved a hand. “Now go, thou shouldst enjoy thine weekend.”

Alphinaud stepped out of the theatre, he noticed the halls were already empty, students keen to begin their weekend. As he slowly paced down the corridor, his mind idling to plans to hide in his room and study, a pair of voices caught his attention.

Another lecture theatre, the door slightly ajar. Voices echoing faintly from within.

_“I do not need protecting. Your worries will fall on deaf ears, for I will be fine. I know what I’m doing and I need to do this. I need to fight.”_

Alphinaud felt his chest catch, coming to a stop on his heels. Drawn to the discourse, his severe need to eavesdrop, he approached nearer the door, pausing by a statue of Halone, The Fury.

He recognised the voice, it was Professor Light. It sounded firm in tone. His throat ran dry.

_You should leave, you should leave you should-_

“Then let’s go treasure hunting, let’s venture into the Highlands, find a dungeon together. Blow off some steam one might say. Show me your world.” Another voice cut through his common sense.

Professor Aymeric’s voice. Low, concerned, a hint of distress and desperation frayed at the edges as he had spoke.

“That sounds wonderful, Aymeric.” The sound of steps and the shuffling of paper emanated from the door, “But I still wish to fight him. A friendly rivalry is nothing to be dismissive about surely?”

Alphinaud’s hands clutched the straps of his satchel tighter, nails digging into the worn leather. _Why did Professor Aymeric care so much? She’s the Warrior of Light..._

“It’s not about that. I _know_ Estinien. He is powerful. I fear that…”

“And I’m not?”

“No. I did not mean that--”

“You say you feel you know more about me and yet you say things like that, Aymeric… I have no further desire to continue this conversation. Have a good day.”

The footsteps sounded hurried.

Alphinaud felt his stomach lurch and by instinct he slinked, receding further behind the statue, trying to shrink into the shadows whilst he watched.

The door opened fully and Professor Light emerged, hurriedly making her way out of the room, a blur of black and gold. Her face was scowling yet upset. Sad, a forlorn look of disappointment on her face.

Immediately, Professor Aymeric had rushed from the room, his arm flung out, grasping at the loose sleeve over her wrist. He tugged it back, pulling her round. She was staring furiously at the floor. He was tall next to her, his chiselled face looked pained.

Alphinaud felt the tension build in his stomach. It felt voyeuristic, witnessing this. _I shouldn’t be here. This is. Professor Aymeric, he-_

“Forgive me for being... untoward one might say, but personally, I think it is not unreasonable for me to feel… concerned about your wellbeing when throwing yourself into danger. Particularly with someone I know can be almost... beast-like in the battlefield.”

Professor Aymeric was shaking slightly, his hair was covering his eyes as he stared down at her. His voice rolled from his tongue, strained, hand still firmly holding her sleeve.

“Aymeric.” Professor Light replied, voice trembling. “I am not some delicate flower you needs must protect. What is another fight to me? And I do not require unwarranted counsel on a decision I have already made.”

She sounded aloof, a little cold. Stubborn. Always stubborn. In all the years Alphinaud and his sister had walked with the Warrior, stubbornness was one trait she tried to not display. But when it reared its head it was always in a split decision fueled by emotion.

Alphinaud watched with bated breath as slowly, the silken sleeve slipped from his fingers.

“My Lady.” Aymeric said, his voice catching on himself. She turned slightly away from him. “I do apologise. I just felt-”

“_Felt._” She said. “I do not need another person to worry about me. I do not wish to burden someone with that stress. Such is the downside of being a Warrior of Light. Everything, everyone we touch just end up suffering,_ worrying_.”

She reached her arm up, placing it gently on his upper arm. It was a light, delicate motion. Reassurance. Alphinaud observed. He saw Aymeric’s hand twitch, as if wanting to finish that connection… to place his hand with hers. Alphinaud inhaled slightly, noticing that Aymeric did not cave.

“Please do not worry about me. I can handle my own. I promise you.”

Her words were final. The conversation ended.

_Such drama_, Alphinaud chorused in his mind. He was blushing madly to himself. His stupid little crush had glued him to that spot, making him gawp at the situation. The late afternoon light was like a spotlight, a beam of radiance gently framing their conversation. _A story of two people beginning a careful dance, cautiously tangling themselves into something new, two beings afraid to be close for fear of.. for fear of…_ Alphinaud bit his lip, trying to disrupt his poetic thoughts, his own narrative forming in his mind.

Professor Aymeric’s arms fell to his sides in defeat as he watched Professor Light give him one last sullen look before turning away fully and with clattering heels, hurried away down the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel Aymeric is too wholesome for this world and would persist in caring anyway. 
> 
> Also please look forward to the next chapter where it may or may not be the rematch... 
> 
> Thanks once again for reading and feel free to comment!


	13. A Golden Storm, A Violet Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ “Shut up with your pleasantries and your goading words and let us go.” He bellowed, crouching, ready to attack._
> 
> _Her heart surged in her chest, battering against inside the protective cage of her body. She licked her lips, her throat ran dry with anticipation. Taking her lance in both hands she flexed downwards, crouching._
> 
> _A creature, ready to pounce. ___
> 
> _  
  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go ~~~~
> 
> _________________________________

Light wasn’t going to lie to herself, she did feel a bit nervous.

She thought to indulge Estinien in his rematch. He had insisted that they do it fully clad in armour, so as to offer a level of protection against how unrestrained he might become. As threatening as that sounded, she welcomed it. Though not as commonly fought as her predecessors, Light had bested primals, dragons, warlords. What is one more feral beast?

Aymeric had caught wind from the moment she agreed to the rematch, and the way their small disagreement had occurred… the way he gripped her sleeve and looked at her... her stomach flipped at the sense of caution he bore for her choice. There was a nervous lilt in his blue eyes when he looked at her, but she disregarded it. She would be fine. She can look after herself.

The weekend after her encounter with Aymeric she had avoided any encounter with him. Be it wandering the University in need of the library or lingering in the common room, working overtime to mark papers.

His expression remained imprinted in her mind. She knew he was doing it out of care but in that moment she had unravelled, felt undeserving. Didn’t want to let his concern in.

She wasn’t annoyed at him, a stubborn stormcloud lingered over her mind, clouding her better judgement as she steeped herself gently in a simmering pot of determination.

Some part of her, deep down, had missed the thrill of engaging in a tough battle.

It had been far too long, and her aether hungered to be used more than for simple spells and small practice drills with her weapons.

Eorzea had been at peace for far too long, so the warrior was not as well exercised as she used to be.  
Now it was the beginning of the week. A somber sun lingered in the sky, fresh. New.

She waited til the end of the day.

She pushed the door open slowly, seeing a lone figure composed of spikes and protrusions standing patiently in the centre of the room. It was early evening and shafts of amber sunlight spilled like holy beams through the skylights in the gymnasium. The shadow he cast loomed across the great wooden flooring.

The air felt thick, a pressure that stifled her breathing. The hairs on her neck prickled lightly. The calm before the storm.

To her right she saw them, his training class all huddled on the tiered wooden benches. They turned in hushed whispers to gaze at her as she slowly strolled into the main hall.

“I wont hold back this time, _Vul_.” Estinien growled. His armour clinked as he stretched, flexing his muscles and bending down to pick up his lance.

“If we are to wear armour, I imagine you would not.” She smiled, stepping forward.

There was a surge of aether. The class gasped as an odd magickal noise and a swift flash burst forth from her, her clothes flipped around her and she was adorned from head to toe in deep black Dragoon armour. There were pale yellow markings, subtle, across her gauntlets and chausses. Her lance matched the same colourway which she twirled breezily in her hand before slamming it down.

“I assure you, I won't hold back either.” She smirked, reaching up and sliding the visor down.

She turned, feeling a slight pang of anticipation in her stomach. “Dear students, please be careful and keep a safe distance. This fight might get out of hand and I don’t think Count Edmont or Professor Greystone will forgive me if harm comes to you.”

She noticed Alphinaud nod fiercely, his face red in admiration. “We can cast barriers.” He encouraged. Professor Vul smiled.

“Thank you, though I hope we won't cause any damage to you or any of this beautiful architecture.” She turned to face Estinien, “You heard that Ser Dragoon? Do your worst to me, but maybe avoid the students, and this building...”

He had flipped his visor down on his armour, so she could only see his snarling mouth.

“What do you take me for _Vul_? I will not miss in my attacks. Damn woman.”

“Yes well, recklessness does not mean accuracy.” She chimed teasingly.

“Shut up with your pleasantries and your goading words and let us go.” He bellowed, crouching, ready to attack.

Her heart surged in her chest, battering against inside the protective cage of her body. She licked her lips, her throat ran dry with anticipation. Taking her lance in both hands she flexed downwards, crouching.

A creature, ready to pounce.

\---  
It was thundering. The tea in his cup pulsed slightly, ripples forming.

Aymeric lifted his reading glasses off his face, looking around his office and blinking as he tried to discern what was going on.

There it was again, that dull thundering boom that coursed through the bones of the building. He felt uneasy.

There were footsteps outside his office. His stomach twirled. _Are we under attack?_

He threw the office door open, seeing a group of students run past feverishly. No one was in a panic. In fact, he observed, the students looked excited.

“What is going on?” He questioned, as a throng of students swam past.

“Professor Light and Ser Wyrmblood are fighting in the courtyard!” Gasped a student in elation as they passed, _“In full Dragoon armour!”_

Aymeric felt his chest knot. This did not bode well. He grabbed his thick cloak from the coat stand next to the door and hurried along, following the flow of students.

\---

A piercing twinge of metal upon metal clanged, ringing through the courtyard, echoing across disjointed rooftops, deafening at its high pitched peak. He had clashed with her, their staff gritted against each other as he applied pressure.

What had begun in the gymnasium had swelled in violence, blinded by the heat of their battle, Light and Estinien had carried their battle from the safety of indoors out and across the rooftops of the University.

The fervour in which they fought had emanated, the noise carrying across the building and students and Professors had halted in their classes, clamouring to windows and balconies to bear witness to this violence.

“You’re going to have to…” she panted between hits, “try harder than that, Ser Dragoon.” She gasped, mid flight as he surged past her, swinging round to attack on the double. She felt her muscles pull her, flipping her round and spinning through the air raggedly to dodge.

They thundered onto the roofs overlooking one of the largest courtyards, the one with the deep pond she had observed many weeks ago. Tiles cracked under the weight of her aether as her steeled boots gripped into the roof to gain balance. Estinien surged down towards her and she deflected, sliding, grinding on her feet backwards as tiles shattered everywhere as she bore the brunt of his attack with her lance.

Flecks of grey slate scattered everywhere like hailstones, spitting themselves down towards the courtyard below. Through the corner of her eye she saw swathes of students, a thick throng scattered among the arches, the balconies, the windows.

And Aymeric.

She could barely make him out as blood had seeped into her eyes, a rose tint forming over her vision. But he was there, swaddled in cloaks.. Alisaie and Alphinaud had joined him on either side as had Urianger.

“Aymeric.” She breathed. Feeling her stomach tense in a new way. A wave of shame washed over her as the sight of him in the distance, those blues eyes wide with worry knocked her from her delirious, stuporous lust for battle .

“We should stop.” She choked quietly, reeling under the pressure of Estinien’s lance, feeling her legs buckle as he forced more energy upon her, the pressure of his aether was curling around her, suffocating. Her armour felt tight around her tense muscles as she fought to resist. The sound of metal scraped and clawed against her, causing her to clench her teeth.

Estinien heard her and laughed, snarling violently, spit and blood scattering across her visor.

“We are not done. Not until one of us yields. Will it be you?” He grunted desperately.

His words seemed to have triggered a fierce sense of competition in her once again. She kicked one of her legs swiftly under him, and he collapsed on top of her. The weight of the motion caused them to both lose balance and they tumbled, bowling down the slope of the roof and from a great height towards the well kept courtyard below.

Statues shook as they plummeted, hitting the ground with great force and a rush of gasps and murmuring spilled into the air at their impact.

Freed from his restraints, she pinned him down. Holding her lance with one hand she pointed it at his neck. The ground cracked around them, the stone was disjointed, protruding from angles around them, a sign of their violent struggle.

“Yield.” She gasped, her armour felt heavy, a burden on her skin as she heaved each breath with great effort.

She could see his eyes, but felt her stomach knot when a sly smirk drawled across his features.

There was a sudden change in pressure. Energy anew was bounding around her. Something didn’t seem right.

For a split second all had been deafened to the world around her, the only sound was a whisper of a single word, uttered in front of her as she felt a hand tightly clamp around her wrist.

“Never.”

Without time to react she was tossed to the side like a ragdoll, lance in hand.

She toppled through the perimeter, slapping with a loud clang of metal upon rock against the edge of the wall of the pond.

Shaking, she found her balance, crouched with one leg out as the Dragoon thundered towards her. Mustering what little strength she had she leapt several hundred yalms skyward, slowing to a stop as her aether surged around her.

The University looked small, like a model below her. She could still see the blur of flesh coloured dots, faces watching her, a smudge in comparison to where she were now.

As she floated down the courtyard crept closer into view. Her eyes searched for him. For Aymeric. The wave of shame swirled around her very being once again.

What she thought was a moment's respite to plan her next move, was unfortunately thoroughly cut short.

“WATCH OUT!” came a longing cry. The voice sounded familiar, deep, strangled. Was it Aymeric?

A blur of snarling deep purple shot past her like a streak of voidsent lightning.

In a moment of instinct she thrust her lance out, attacking as she twisted in mid air.

Then it happened.

She recognised it, for it was the final move she had used on Estinien in their last scuffle.

As if light as air he was standing on her lance. His own was poised high above him. She had lunged too far forward, her torso, her back, exposed.

“Ah you wicked being.” She said, trying to stifle a mirthless smile. “You wicked, wicked being.”

The next thing she knew her armour crumpled around her and she wheezed. Feeling the full force of his lance upon her, crunching down against her own defenses, piercing her aether, sending her down, down…

She spun at great speed, she had no energy left to right herself. She felt sick, the vertigo Estinien must have experienced when she used that attack on him caught up with her as her neck snapped forward to catch a dry heave.

The world around her spun, whites and greys, spiralling with the light snowfall.

Then she heard it. Her name. Her given name, being cried out to her, a choked throaty deep voice that swirled around her in her disorientation.

Then there was a thunderous crack, piercing through a layer of ice, thick, unrelentingly cold as it snapped into her back.

Then a wave of wet, icy cool, seeping into her armour, her underclothes, her lungs.

Before she scrunched her eyes shut she could make out a figure, a blur of black and blue sinking into the water above her, the light like a heavenly halo around them. Their face was blurry, but she could make out those piercingly pale blue eyes, staring, seeking for life.

A pale hand, outstretched. Tangibly within reach.

She felt tired.

She closed her eyes.

Then nothing.

\---

It wasn’t that Aymeric had disagreed with the notion of Light taking on Estinien again in combat. After their small disagreement and his untoward act of asking her not to he felt a sense of shame to try and deny her something she wanted to do. It was more he had this ache within him he couldn’t define. A ball of nerves, rumbling in a wild pile from within.

A need to be concerned for her welfare.

And as he watched the two of them clash over the rooftops of the courtyard, metal upon metal, blow after blow, violent surges of attacks…

He felt helpless.

Every part of him tensed at the apprehension to the outcome of this battle.

Alphinaud, Alisaie and Professor Augerelt had joined his side among the thick line of students who were crowded around, sheltered under archways.

The sound of cracks filled the air, aether streaking like lightening with each blow. It whipped cold winds and pressure across the courtyard, flipping cloaks and spraying snow everywhere.

He felt his hands ball into fists when they clattered to the ground, a thunderous pound that he noticed the statues around the pond shake in their foundation in response.

Students were waiting with bated breath.

“This is getting too dangerous.” Aymeric heard Professor Augurelt murmur under his breath. “Pray, we need to find a way to dissolve this fighting before it gets out of hand.” Aymeric looked over, realised the elezen was talking to him. He looked just as concerned, his pale yellow eyes that reminded him of hers peering at him in a steely gaze, serious.

He had intended to reply, but there was shouting between the tangling pair far across the courtyard that interrupted his interaction.

A split second and a streak of black and gold shot high into the air. There was a collective inhale, gasps swirling in the air as Light disappeared far into the sky.

Estinien was growling, shooting off after her.

Aymeric peered skyward, seeing a single figure drift slowly down. He could barely make her face out but it looked calm, exhausted.

Then a shot of purple, like a violent spear streaking untowards the heavens.

The words tore from his throat without a second thought.

“WATCH OUT!” he cried, his voice cracking in its roar. Faces turned to look at him.

A loud clang. A surge of pressure. Someone had been smited.

The figure fell, spiralling at such great speed. He glimpsed patterns of gold, black.

The ice in the pond shattered, chunks of it buckling under the pressure as it tried to absorb the damage of the fallen woman. Shards of ice erupted, dangerous, pointing at the sky, a doomed cage.  
Water surged into the air, a fountain of defeat.

Everyone fell silent.

Aymeric was frozen. His heart itself became a stopper to his breath for what felt like an eternity.

Everyone was staring at the water, sloshing messily in the pond.

Then he spoke.

“She’s not surfacing…” Aymeric said quietly. Then, a loud realisation. “_She’s not surfacing_!”

His cloak then his coat, pooled at his feet.

His muscles were pulling him, his legs carrying him before he could think. The chill whipped through his hair as he threw himself into the water.

He plunged, the water deep. It stung, clinging to his skin like an icy demon, clawing at him.

He could see her. A figure swatched in black and gold, glistening in the dull light.

Then he rose from the pond. Even with her armour she felt weightless in his arms. He was numb from the cold, he lifted her visor. Her eyes were shut, her mouth parted open and a small breath left her, light, a small whisper.

_“Aymeric.”_

People had rushed over to the edge. Alphinaud and Professor Augurelt had reached the edge, taking her from him carefully.

A warm glow filled the air, students had gathered, casting magicks, warming her body. Someone passed Aymeric his cloak and offered their hand in magick and he shook it off, stepping out of the pond’s edge and wrapping his cloak tightly around him.

The only time he took his eyes off Light was when he heard a faint clink among the heavy murmuring of students.

Looking up he saw him. Estinien, balanced perfectly on a spire. A pointed figure of purple, a dark dark shadow against the clear sky.

He had lifted his visor up, staring with wide eyes in fear at the body of the Professor.

Their eyes met, only for a moment, before he pushed his visor down again.

With one swift leap he disappeared, dipping beyond the horizon of misshapen towers and spires. Estinien… my friend… he thought. He was running.

There was a flash of light that drew Aymeric’s attention back. Her armour disappeared. A sign of her aether fading. She shivered violently, clad only in a shirt and trousers. Her white hair clung to her, matted, wet, matching the tone of her skin.

Aymeric crouched down, feeling the bustle of students who had crowded around him push around his sides. Slowly, he extended a hand to place it against her forehead but another hand had reached there first.

Looking up, the reproachful expression of Count Edmont de Fortemps was staring down at her. He hummed in contemplation as he lifted the back of his hand away from her skin. Haurchefant was by his side, his face white and his eyes wide with fear as he reached down to carefully wrap his arms around her to lift her up, people clamoured to swathe her in coats and cloaks, anything they could find.

“Take her to the medical wing immediately.” He said, his voice boomed with instruction. “Quickly now!”


	14. Love and Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aymeric’s breath had stopped. He felt hopeful. He could see what Haurchefant meant, understand on a certain level what his dear friend was speaking of._
> 
> _For he had felt a little of that kindling himself. It was slight, a thin twinkle of something lingering like the remnants of something beautiful, a sweet memory, unreachable, stirring within the base of his heart._
> 
> _The crush, oh the giddy feeling of the crush had adorned him with a flighty joy. But now, having just spent the whole night by her bedside, reading a book, watching over her, there was some irresistible pull, that made him want to be by her side. To see her._
> 
> _To worry._
> 
> _To care._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi welcome to a huge big fluff dump about love. Seriously I hope you are in the mood for something sweet because this is very _very_ saccharine.
> 
> ___________________________________________

“Do… do you think she’ll be ok?” Alphinaud stuttered, forcing a forkful of bacon into his mouth and shakily grabbing a slice of toast.

“She has to be, she’s the Warrior of Light.” Alisaie said matter of factly, sipping her tea, “They say she’s aether sick, she over exerted herself. I’ve never see Ser Wyrmblood that fierce before… I hope he did not do too much damage to her…”

Alphinaud felt the urge to grab Alisaie and slam the bowl of porridge he had next to his food into her face.

“_Too much damage_?” He stammered furiously “Did you see the way he slammed that lance upon her and down to the ground.” He felt his fists clench. “I admire Ser Wyrmblood but--” His face ran a hot red as he looked down at his plate “But I just hope she’s ok.”

Often, it was Alisaie that would harbour strong feelings and act upon them. But for Alphinaud, he felt today, after the events of the week, their personalities had been swapped.

The twins were sitting at breakfast in Fortemps Manor, their place of residence. The house staff bustled around them as other members of the Fortemps family filled their plates full to the brim. It was a Friday, and the beginning of just over two wonderful weeks for independent study so classes were not on. For Alphinaud, it was not off to a good start. Unnecessary anxiety had gripped him.

Alphinaud could see someone watching him carefully, resting their head in their hands.

He looked to the head of the table to see Professor Greystone smiling at him.

“Pro- Professor Greystone I apologise!” Alphinaud warbled, “I did not mean to snap at Alisaie--”

“My dear boy, it’s Haurchefant when we are not in class and do not fear, your beloved Light shall return to you soon.”

His face thundered, a deep bloom of heat blossomed across his features as Alisaie stifled a laugh. She placed a hand over his, peering around at him.

“I am trying to keep an air of lightheartedness, dear brother.” Alisaie said, a small smile on her face. “I worry for her too but I beg of you, do not be afraid.”

It had been three days since the incident.

The first day, Haurchefant and Count Edmont had returned to the manor their faces sullen. Alisaie had rushed over to beg them of the news, and Haurchefant put on a brave face, simply saying the Chirrurgeons were doing the best they could and that it appeared she was aethersick from over expenditure in such a fierce battle.  
Overhearing the two elezen discuss the situation in the drawing room later, Edmont had agreed to hold a meeting in regards to Estinien, whom Haurchefant had managed to persuade to keep him as staff… if they could find him.

“Has father had breakfast?” Alphinaud heard Haurchefant asked the table. Several waiting staff bustled over, shaking their heads.

“Nay, he had to leave early to prepare for the meeting later, Ser.” Haurchefant closed his eyes at their words, still smiling.

“Then prepare a small hamper of food and deliver it to him... in Fact…” Haurchefant placed a finger on his lips “Prepare two, I have a feeling Aymeric has not eaten either. But I shall deliver that one myself.”

Thoughtfully, he looked up at Alphinaud, catching his eye.

“Alphinaud, perhaps you could join me on my trip to the University, I am due to visit the medical wing and I’m sure though she still not wakes, your presence would be most welcome in seeing our dear Light anyway.”

He chewed his lip, nodding. Alisaie gently elbowed him and he kicked her in the shin in return.

\---

It was far within the latter half of the Eorzean year… and if the chill that had bloomed over Ishgard had not been colder now, the coming days foretold heavy snowfall, storms and further deepening the neverending winter that gripped Coerthas.

A cool morning air filled Alphinaud’s lungs, he puffed into his hands as he crossed the quiet streets with Haurchefant, carrying a small hamper laiden with pastries, several other delicacies and a pot of tea, wrapped in several layers of warm cloth, a small pot of birch syrup nestled within.

Winding up from the Pillars towards the University, Haurchefant kept several paces ahead, humming quietly to himself.

Alphinaud fidgeted nervously, questions thrummed through his mind, pages of text swam forth. He flicked through them in his mind, scanning them quickly.

He wanted to ask Haurchefant, to ask someone he considered _wise_ why all this was happening. Why Estinien ran away, why he harmed the Warrior of Light so fiercely. Why he, a young smart elezen, (top of his class) carried such irrational emotions with him in regards to Light. He could discern every aetheric pattern and their elements from memory, carve runes into the ground to summon the mightiest of magicks. And yet, he couldn’t shirk this pathetic crush he harboured. He couldn’t tell if it was something more- _no, that’s ridiculous_, Alphinaud said, biting his tongue to distract.

The University towered over the two of them, archaic pillars of stone arching into the wintery sky. Grey roofs mingled among the unlit windows, light catching gently off them. It was eerily quiet because classes were out.

\----

Passing through the grand entrance hall, winding up the staircase and disappearing through corridors, the two of them wove their way through the building in silence. Haurchefants upbeat humming was the only evidence there was life within the hallowed halls.

“Ah, we are here, my dear boy.” Haurchefant said, turning back and smiling at Alphinaud.

Ushering through oak double doors, a narrow hallway met them, a large archway to their left opened out into a churchlike room, tall dark oak dividers spread throughout the place in neat formation, tucked under more archways that singled out each room without roofs of their own. The smell of potions and chemicals lightly filled the air, a delicate balance of white magicks hummed in the background. Alphinaud felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle from the sense. Though he didn’t study white magicks it still felt comforting, pure, a world apart from the healing spells he knew.

The atmosphere in the room was somber, a golden hue of light cascaded from the tall archaic glass windows that encapsulated the room. The ceiling towered overhead, it reminded Alphinaud slightly of the gymnasium, only rather than violence, it was a place of holy sacrament, a place for healing.

Haurchefant kept his upbeat composure, smiling broadly as a matron bustled up to him as Alphinaud sat on the bench in the narrow hallway, facing out through the main archway. He cuddled the basket close to him, perching it precariously on his knees. The faint smell of tea danced through the fabric.

After a few quick words, Haurchefant let the matron hurry away, her White Mage robes swirling in a candy like mix of pure white and wine red around her. He nodded over to Alphinaud, beckoning him... and he jumped up, following after, scurrying down the quiet room.

As he passed the divided rooms he could see they were all empty barring one, for as they approached, a few parchments tacked to the edge of the dividers indicating to Alphinaud that they had arrived at Light’s room.

“Ah.” Haurchefant stopped at the entrance, his head tilted to one side. A comforting smile spread across his features as he spoke, even quieter, “It appears we shall have to tread quietly.”

The young elezen peered round the corner, his hair braid swinging as he craned his neck. A broad hand on the small of his back made him tense slightly as Haurchefant gently ushered him into the room.

It was a large cosy room, a single towering window stretched through the roofless walls, casting a faint morning glow. Outside, snow slowly fell, white flecks against the window building up as the rooftops of Ishgard faded out of sight below.

To his right of the entrance, a large bed lay, a figure propped up on pillows,still, asleep. Alphinaud felt his pulse quicken at the sight. But it wasn’t out of his crush, more out of an ache of suffering. Seeing her like this-

Her hair flowed around her, framing her skin, paler than usual. Blankets were pulled up near her neck as her head slanted to one side. Her chest rose and fell daintily. _At least she looked peaceful._

On the side cabinet next to the bed, a large vase sat, a beautiful display of chrysanthemums, golden yellow stood like a found treasure. Around the vase, a small ribbon of blue, gold and black was neatly formed into a bow.

A large armoire and cabinet of potions stood centred against the wall in the room next to the window. Then to the left-

An armchair, a large tall backed one. A sleeping elezen slouched slightly in it, book abandoned on his lap. His raven black hair was messily splayed over his face, his reading glasses dipped down, dangling dangerously off his sharp nose.

His lips were parted slightly, his head rested on his palm, other hand clasped over the book.

Even when sleeping, Professor Aymeric looked tired. Worn. Not as at peace as Light did in her catatonic state.

Haurchefant gently grasped the picnic basket, taking it quietly from Alphinaud and set it down on the low table that the armchair was next to. Alphinaud hurriedly slipped into the long armchair that was against the wall to his left, taking note to not wake Professor Aymeric.

He sidled over to the edge, resting an arm on the side of the ornate chair and watched as Haurchefant glided across the room, a breeze of black and yellow tailcoats, kneeling next to the bed where Light lay.

Alphinaud felt heat rush to his face and he made a mind to look away as Haurchefant crooned and cooed over her, he could see from the corner of his vision the man take her hand, gently placing a light kiss on it.

He turned his face further away, feeling his stomach flip. He admired Haurchefant, he really did. Such acts of love felt almost too potent for him, too much to handle.

Alphinaud adored the way Haurchefant could express himself so selflessly and not expect anything in return. The way he treated Light, or what he had bore witness to in the past, transcended a love that was beyond any understanding. It was poetic and the young elezen wished he could be even half as brave with his feelings as Haurchefant was.

Noiselessly, Haurchefant swathed back across the room, towards Aymeric. Crouching down he carefully removed his reading glasses, slipped the book from his stoic palms and then with an air of kindness, placed his lips upon the top of Aymeric’s head.

Alphinaud felt his heart ache with a joy he couldn’t place. He had never wanted to be like another person than this instant, to love so freely like Haurchefant.

_You’re too good for this realm._ Alphinaud sighed.

Nestling himself next to Alphinaud he placed Aymeric’s book down on the coffee table and began to slowly unpack the hamper.

Alphinaud watched in silence, his throat dry. Then he swallowed, wetting his lips, bracing himself to ask.

“Haurchefant?” He said quietly, tilting his head as Haurchefant smiled in response.

“Yes my dear boy?” He replied in hushed tones.

“What… I mean…” He laced his hands together, picking at the skin on his delicate fingers, “Can I ask a personal question?”

“But of course, what is on your mind?”

He swallowed again, avoiding eye contact. He steeled himself then brought his sight straight up, staring into the crystal blue eyes of Haurchefant, glimmering with kindness.

“What…” He fumbled with words. “How does one, distinguish feelings between… an idle crush… and love?”

\---

Within the muffled darkness of his half asleep mind, Aymeric heard Alphinaud’s question faintly, yet could clearly make out the words.

_What… how does one distinguish feelings between an idle crush… and love?_

His chest stirred, a whirring of his heart as it pulsed, clicked in awareness to Alphinaud’s words. It was as if he were pondering the question himself.

Too tired to move, Aymeric let his fingers clutch his face for a while longer, staying half awake to be conscious enough to hear the conversation that was quietly taking place to his right.

“My dear boy, that’s quite the question you have asked.” Haurchefant said with a low chuckle. “May I ask why you are asking such a heavy question?”

“I um. I was curious. I don’t understand the difference… I don’t know if… the feeling…”

“_Your feeling._” Haurchefant chimed and Aymeric heard uncomfortable shuffling against the fine fabric of the sofa.

“Yes.” Alphinaud replied thickly.

“Hmmm well, there is _quite_ the difference I must say. For one, a crush is a flight of fancy, a delightful feeling when you are attracted to a person, they make you feel happy, full of warmth. But it is only the_ idea_ of them that entails a crush.. It is a seed, the beginning of a sapling, a feeling that may grow but often like a withering flame it is snuffed out as the crush passes.”

Aymeric felt Haurchefants words drift lazily through his subconscious.

“The idea of a person?” Alphinaud questioned.

“Yes dear Alphinaud, do you know their quirks, the things that make them tick? Do they have that small laugh that makes your heart sing? Does it bring you joy knowing what they like and what makes them happy?”

“I. I do not. I just know she makes me nervous, and I feel warm… but I don’t see much of her, or what makes her happy...or… I just_ like_ her.” He said quietly, crestfallen.

“I feel then, you merely are harbouring a crush for the idea of her I’m afraid.” Haurchefant said in low tones.“She is but a wonderful woman, and I’m sure many a person has tried to court her, but it is the real her, the real things… that a person like her has hidden in her depths, under her title of Warrior of Light, that love grows from.”

“What of love? Haurchefant, how do you know if you love someone?”

“I feel that is a matter more complex than Hydaelyn herself.” Haurchefant laughed. The sound of the sofa shuffling filled the air and Haurchefants voice grew more tender.

“Love has its many forms.” He began, “It takes its root in different ways, growing from a different seed, nurtured by different things.” He took a delicate pause, his voice more cheerful, “Love is terrifying, but exhilarating. It is the feeling you are giving so much to one person, your heart, your fragile soul, all is exposed for this one person. They make you breathless, awed, astounded. But it is selfless, exhilarating, ah love is such a wonderful thing my dear Alphinaud. It is a gift, a pleasure, a blessing to have.”

Faintly, Aymeric could feel a sniff, it seemed that Alphinaud had been affected by Haurchefants bard-like telling of the concept of love.

“And then _true_ love…”

There was a pause.

“The raging tempest that was once the heat of a growing love calms, and it lulls. To just _exist_ with that person is a symphonic swelling, a joy, unconditional, beautiful. Acceptance of each other is complete, calming, balanced.”

There was a long silence. Aymeric could feel his chest whirling, processing what Haurchefant said.

For Aymeric, love was an idea that was too premature a concept to consider,_ for her, for now._ But the way Haurchefant described it, gave him yearning. He _hoped,_ he _wished_ that perhaps…

“Will my feelings ever grow into love?” Alphinaud said, his voice sounding more logical yet strained.

Haurchefant chuckled, a light slap and Aymeric figured his friend had placed his hand upon the boy’s shoulder.

“For you, I feel your love will be more of that of an older sister. Admiration, adoration. I seldom think it will grow any other way, but forgive me for being bold and predicting the matters of your heart.”

“How do you know that, what growing love feels like?”

“That joy I mentioned prior, knowing small things about them, they become pictures etched in your mind. And your heart, oh your heart is full of unbridled happiness. It begins slow, a faint feeling that something more rides within the depths of your soul, a kindling. Then it grows over time, when you spend more time being by their side, _you know_ oh _you know_. That ache, that _pull_ is the feeling it will blossom into something more.”

Aymeric’s breath had stopped. He felt hopeful. He could see what Haurchefant meant, understand on a certain level what his dear friend was speaking of.

For he had felt a little of that kindling himself. It was slight, a thin twinkle of something lingering like the remnants of something beautiful, a sweet memory, unreachable, stirring within the base of his heart.

The crush, oh the giddy feeling of the crush had adorned him with a flighty joy. But now, having just spent the whole night by her bedside, reading a book, watching over her, there was some irresistible pull, that made him _want_ to be by her side. To see her.

To worry.

To care.

As soon as the matron said that Light could receive visits Aymeric was there. Each night. When they came to usher him away he would wait, then return. He’d mark work, read books, simply _idle_. All the while as she slept, like a loyal hound awaiting their owner’s return. When he closed his eyes he could see how she had lain his arms, the cracked way she said his name...

“You will. Oh my boy you will. But with many apologies, I regret to inform you that it will not be with our dear Warrior. Besides, she is a little bit older for you and I’m sure there are many fair maidens in our University that have their eye on you…”

Alphinaud let out a little choked laugh, it was muddled with the sound of tears, a slight snuffling occured and Aymeric could hear faintly as Haurchefant consoled him quietly.

“Haurchefant, your wisdom, you inspire me. But you are right, I am merely letting my adolescent nature get the better of me.” Aymeric heard more slight movement and Alphinaud continued, “It will pass. I just need to overcome it. Distract myself.”

“You’re a very smart and handsome young scholar, you will figure it out.” Haurchefant said. “If you wish, I can indulge you some of my best flirtation tactics-”

At that, Aymeric made a small noise as he slowly stirred from his half slumber.

“Ah, our Prince awakes.” Said a cheerful Haurchefant, looking up at Aymeric as he blinked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “Now we just need our Princess to awake… Perhaps a kiss shall rouse her from her sleep?”

Aymeric laughed slowly, shaking the remnants of his words from his mind, focusing himself in the present.

“Haurchefant, joking as ever.” Aymeric said, clearing his throat as a teacup, dragging a fine smell of Ishgardian’s finest blend, slipped towards him across the table. “Ah, why thank you.”

“We guessed that you had not eaten.” Alphinaud said, Aymeric glanced at him and noticed his eyes were a little red, “So Haurchefant kindly brought you some food and tea.”

“You are too kind, friend.” Aymeric replied, the genteel tones of his voice becoming sharper as he woke up fully. “I hope I did not keep you.”

“Not at all.” Haurchefant chimed, ruffling Alphinaud's hair, who went red and tried to straighten himself up, look more important. “Dear Alphinaud and I were just having a rather interesting discussion whilst you slept.”

Among the calm haze of the morning light, Aymeric noticed Haurchefant give him a sly glance and a knowing wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always do leave comments if you enjoyed!


	15. The Mage and her Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mask, hardened, carved from solid marble, began to crack ever so slightly. Beneath, the lingering feeling of a spark, a want, danced like a dangerous light, pulling at taut aether strings, their energy carving away at fragments, fraying it’s edges, slowly, unravelling them with his careful and kind words of a deep silken tone. Her heart stirring in reaction.
> 
> _What if he does not like what’s under this mask?_
> 
> _Let him in. Let him see._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff, it's why you're here right?
> 
> __________________________________________________

“Ser Aymeric, you theorised that Ser Estinien has ran to hide within the Dravanian Forelands?”

“Yes I believe so.”

The voices were loud, echoing behind the doors.

“If I may be so bold,” Aymeric said, his voice polite, firm. “I wish to take action and go find Ser Estinien. I know him better than anyone here and I feel that is something we ought to consider an advantage.”

She pushed them open with all her strength, letting it swing with a loud groaning noise as the wood shuddered against the cold air of the room.

“I’ll go.”

They all turned around, looking at her. She slanted slightly to her right, a pull of weakness drawing her to one side.

Her given name was uttered in surprise, a blend of eyes of various shades of blue, all poured over her weary state. Azure eyes, surprised, worried, concerned met hers. She couldn’t look at him right now from shame.

“My lady, you are awake.” Count Edmont stood up from the grand round table in his office, bowing to her. “I am aware you would wish to partake in the search for Estinien but you are barely recovered from your aether sickness.”

Haurchefant had stood, concern etched across his face. Alphinaud too had stood, and… and Aymeric…

There was a thundering of footsteps as the matron waltzed into view to Light’s right, her face pale with concern.

“Milady you really_ must_ come back to the ward.”

Light frowned, staring fiercely at Edmont, who in turn waved a dismissive hand at the Matron. She whisked herself away, muttering.

“Please. It is my mess. I will fix this. Is it not my civic duty as Warrior of Light to make use of my abilities and _help_?”

She had stepped fully into the room now, letting the door creak shut behind her with a thunderous boom. Her black robe swirled around her, belt holding the fabric firm against her. She was grateful when she had awoken that a fresh set of her own clothes had been waiting for her.

She tried not to make contact with Aymeric, the shame snapped at her heels. She wanted to apologise, she wanted to say he was right, but her stubbornness pulled and clawed at her, telling her she was undeserving of forgiveness after her brash actions.

_Was she worthy of such kindness, forgiveness from him?_

Count Edmont was still standing, he placed a hand across his face, pulling at his temples.

“Then you may-”

“If I may interject,” Aymeric suddenly said and she noticed briefly that he tore his eyes from her to look at the Count “I wish to accompany the Warrior on her endeavour.”

There was another sound and Alphinaud had stood, his chair scraped loudly as it slid back against the thick rug, fibres tearing against the stone “I- I too wish to go. I may be a student but as you know Ser, classes are not on and-” He turned feverishly to Haurchefant, “I’m a Scion too and I- I -I promise I will do all my homework whilst we travel!”

A silence fell upon the room. Count Edmont looked stunned. Then in a twist of complacency he laughed, throwing his head back, twirling his cane in his hand before slamming it onto the ground, making everyone jump.

“You are all but young fools. But I shall permit it. The fresh air might do you some good, Master Alphinaud, your sister is more of the eager traveller than you so it brings me a little joy to know you wish to do some adventuring beyond our library yourself.”

Light’s lip twitched, avoiding a smile as she saw the young elezen’s ears burn madly red. He fidgeted with the lapels of his blazer, staring at the table, buckling under the Count’s comments.

“Excellent.” Aymeric said. He turned to face Light and she could feel her stomach weakly flip, twisting under his burning stare. She was still fatigued and his face alone was exhaustingly, impossibly beautiful. He rendered her breathless. She didn’t have the energy to be beholden by someone who looked at her so selflessly.

_The way he looks at you, he cares, he really cares. Twelve._

“If I may suggest, we leave by dawn tomorrow, make a headstart. It will be at least a few days travel to reach the heart of the Forelands.” He looked to Alphinaud who nodded, then to her.

She let her eyes slip to him and held his gaze. Her face was stoic, patient. She did not want to let the mask slip. But internally, she was a maze of emotions. But most of all, she still had to tread carefully, her aether was still regenerating.

“Agreed, a fine plan.” She said, smiling as kindly as she could, mustering the energy to keep up the formalities for they were in a room of _Professors and the Rector and students._

“Splendid!” Haurchefant said, cutting through the tension. He suddenly very informally grabbed Alphinaud around the shoulders, ruffling his hair. “I shall take the young Master shopping, find some Coerthas worthy travel garments, let’s start with boots shall we?”

“But-” Alphinaud said, casting a glance between Light and Aymeric.

“Come along now!” Haurchefant called gleefully, wrangling him from the room.

“Well I say this meeting is adjourned then.” Count Edmont called theatrically as Haurchefant and a rather flustered Alphinaud careened through the now open doors. “I shall expect you will hopefully return within a week?”

“But of course My Lord.” Aymeric said, bowing deeply. Light bowed too.

She turned, slipping out the door, she needed some time to escape, compose herself. There was that small gentle tug again at her sleeve. It was subtle but she felt it.

She spun on her heel and nearly slipped from the vertigo. She still felt lightheaded from the fatigue. Aymeric’s other hand flew out and caught her, gently. He clutched her, she could feel the heat from his slender fingers as they wrapped around her arm. There was the feeling of a tender squeeze.

“You’re ok. I am full glad.” He simply said. His voice was like a silken whisper. It was gentle, caring.

With what little strength she had for that moment, she felt herself unravel under his gaze. He could see past her, she had no pretenses to keep up now. She was too tired. She felt her eyes prickle at the way he leaned over her, a comforting sense of relief she wanted to sink into. To feel him against her. She could smell him, that scent of pine and musk mixed with clean winter air…

“Yes. Aymeric I- I- need to say I’m so-”

“Young lady. Thou hast a lot of explaining to do!”

The familiar growling voice of old prose echoed through the corridor outside the Rector’s room. Before she knew what was happening a pair of hands had clamped themselves upon her shoulders.

“Ah, I am assuming you spoke to the matron.” Light said, turning her head and looking up at the frowning face of Urianger.

“Yes, I require a few stern words with you, about your actions and I must needs examine your aether.” He steered her away to the side. He gave Aymeric a curt nod. “Pray forgive me, Professor Aymeric but milady needs more time to recover else she will cause more damage to her aether if she does not let it fully regenerate in the correct way.”

Like an older sibling he fussed over her and she scowled at him. Aymeric blinked and then smirked at how she was being treated. She diverted her scowl to Aymeric, twisting her face into that of a more humoured scowl than what she had shown to Urianger.

_Y’shtola was right_, she thought. Urianger truly was a man of his word, he _sure_ was keeping an eye on her.

Looking away again, she avoided Aymeric’s stare, feeling the embarrassment mingle with the shame, it’s tendrils growing a cage around her stomach.

“But of course, Professor Augurelt, you cannot let a fellow Scion grow weary.” Aymeric replied lightly. She watched as he gave Urianger a courteous bow, then looked at her as he still bowed, through those eyelashes, “Shall I see you tomorrow at first light, The Arc of the Worthy? I shall send a missive to Master Alphinaud of our plans.”

“Of course.” Light replied simply, face hot with blood. “I shall be there prompt.”

\---------

Dawn. It broke through the city, peeking through clouds, oranges, pinks and yellows, seeping through the sky like coloured inks, wrapping themselves together in a harmony of early morning hues.

He had arrived at the Arc of the Worthy early, he admitted to himself that for one selfish moment, he wanted to be the first to see her before anyone else joined.

Light flecks of snow, powdery, fragile, fell in small clumps around Aymeric as he stood, looking over the horizon towards the land beyond. He felt his insides stir at the sight ahead, dark clouds looming over the horizon. A forewarning of the heavy weather to come.

He hoped they would find Estinien long before the oncoming blizzard become heavy. A small sense of dread weighed down in his stomach.

Aymeric adjusted the strap that held his sword, Naegling. It gleamed shades of brilliant blue against the morning light. He swept his cloak over to cover it, adjusting his gear.

He actually felt nervous, wondering what Light would say, seeing him in his full armour. He realised it was rare to adorn himself with it as of late, but it was appropriate for the journey ahead. The fabric was thick, black gilded gold and blue with silver and gold metals across his body.

As he fidgeted with the strap of his sword for the hundredth time, he heart faint footsteps across the empty square. He looked up.

Swathed in fine white cloth, with delicate markings of red and gold, Light was pacing her way across, white boots pulled up to her thighs, snug against grey wool leggings, a staff strapped to her back. He could feel his chest folding in on itself, like a puzzle, as he tried to loosen the nervous knot from within him.

She looked serene, calm, her arms were up by her head, fumbling as she scooped her hair into a bun with gloved hands. Nestled between her lips, was the handkerchief that Aymeric had given her as she messily toyed with her hair.

She looked _divine_.

He felt her eyes sweep upon him and she paused in her walk, her gait coming to a stop mid stride.

He noticed her face glow pink, blushing. He could see it, as clear as the dawn sun, those light yellow eyes, pale, beautiful, slowly raking themselves across him, taking in his armour. Her gaze settled, locked with his and swiftly he lifted his hand in greeting, swallowing for his throat suddenly ran dry.

“Good morning Aymeric.” She said, her voice quiet, muffled for the handkerchief was in her mouth though her warm smile was there.

He gave a curt bow, smiling at her “Good morning my lady, ah, may I?”

He had hovered on that fine line of acting on emotion versus fighting with restraining himself for too long. And now, for her, he wanted to forego formalities. The coffee, the cake, all small steps over into that dangerous territory bordering past letting it _just_ be a crush. Now-

Gently, he took the handkerchief, letting it slip from her lips before she could decline. He heard her breath hitch slightly as he stood behind her, letting his gauntleted hands move over where her hands clutched her hair. Carefully, he tied the fine silken cloth into her hair. Like strands of moonlight, and with a gentle smell of cotton, fresh, floral, Light’s hair felt soft against his fingers which were exposed through the fingerless gloves. He could feel the knot in his chest form again, tightening around his insides and he reminded himself kindly to remember and breathe.

Light had gone quiet, her hands softly fell down to her sides. She mumbled a faint thank you which was almost cut out as Aymeric leaned down, close to her ear.

“Pray tell, what do you think of my armour?”

\---

The question sounded like a cello, deep bassy notes lingering in the curve of her ear and causing her now exposed neck to prickle. To feel Aymeric’s breath so close to her. She felt heat pooling, swelling in her face. She could smell him, that wintry pine smell melting into her senses. She licked her dry lips, pulling herself away and stepping back to assess him from afar.

He had rendered her breathless when she was approaching him. Too busy fiddling with her hair at first she only looked at the last second to see the handsome elezened garbed in the most heavenly armour.

She felt her throat catch and she almost forgot how to walk in that moment. He looked beautiful, a guardian angel garbed swathed in blue gold and black.

Now, seeing him stand so close to her, he towered over her. She wanted him to protect her. She wanted _him_. To place her hands on his face, to feel those hands envelope her. She had to say._ She had to say._

“The most divine knight ever did I see.” She said, trying to add a playful lilt to her tone but truly, if she had not, her answer would have come out breathy, a long song of words that would portray her feelings almost _too_ well.

She watched him reach for his neck, that nervous tick she had observed often. His ears went red and he tilted his head to one side, bashful.

“It brings joy to my ears to hear your voice and the approval it carries.” He said, smiling softly, tilting his head. “And you…”

“Ah yes, it appears my aether is still restoring, so I could only manage as a White Mage for this journey.” Light said, feebly toying with the hem of her sleeve, looking at her mage gown, its thick ornate layers laced with gold. “So I’m afraid I won't be too much use in combat and-”

“You look breathtaking, Halone herself incarnate.” Aymeric interrupted, voice glossing over her flailing demeanour. She felt the space close between them, his hands placed themselves on her shoulders and he brushed a loose strand of hair behind her neck.

The mask, hardened, carved from solid marble, began to crack ever so slightly. Beneath, the lingering feeling of a spark, a want, danced like a dangerous light, pulling at taut aether strings, their energy carving away at fragments. It fraying at it's edges, slowly, unravelling them with his careful and kind words of a deep silken tone. Her heart stirred in reaction.

_What if he does not like what’s under this mask?_

_Let him in. Let him see._

\---

He was full glad he told her how she looked. She still looked fragile, her face still pale, lips and nose tinged red from the cold. Within those layers of white robes she looked like a heavenly being, a creature sworn to protect.

But he would make full sure he would protect her. If she let him.

“Aymeric I-” She finally spoke, looking up at him with her brows pulled together in worry. “Yesterday I wanted to say…” She swallowed hard and he felt his pulse quicken, looking down at her, her eyes searching his face. “I wanted to say I’m deeply sorry. I should have listened to you and it’s all my fault. I should have listened. I feel so ashamed, a true fool.” She was trembling, chewing on her lip as she avoided looking at him. A light wind whipped her hair over her face and she did not bother fixing it, staring forcefully to her side.

He let his palms slide down her arms, pulling them out. As they neared her hands, the fingerless cotton and leather of her palms motioned slightly as he held her arms, pausing in reaction to her.

“There is nothing to apologise for.” Aymeric said, letting her given name tumble from his lips, low, careful. “You did what you wished to do, but I cannot hide the fact that I care.”

Light finally looked at him, her lips parted, blushing. He drank in the sight of her, the cool air of dawn a glowing blanket over their moment. Those pale yellow eyes he wished to bathe in.

“I… I know. I understand. I… I _care_ about you too Aymeric. And- and I _want_ to let you care but I-”

“Then let me.” Aymeric said boldly, a weight to his words. He squeezed her arms firmly, her robes felt silken and smooth against his skin. Letting go of her he stepped back. Sinking onto one knee, Aymeric folded his arm upon his bent leg, bowing his head.

“If you shall grant me permission, my lady, then let me care about you.” Aymeric said fiercely. His voice quavered slightly at the audacity of his gesture, his body wavered in apprehension of her reaction.

A knight. Bending the knee. To devote. To _protect._

The sound of chimes, no, it was her _laugh,_ jingled airily for a second in his ears and he blushed.

“Aymeric,” she sighed fruitfully, he could sense her grin at his gesture. “Of course Aymeric. _Of course._”

There was the sound of leather boots against stone and he looked up, just as she placed a hand on his shoulder between the fabric and his pauldron. Fingers softly gripped down and through layers of fabric, his skin tingled at the contact. The feeling sent shivers down his spine.

“Who am I-” She started, her eyes low, eyebrows raised, a smile that sung to him of truths, her emotion slipping from being the facade she so often tried to keep up behind smirks, behind humorous, lyrical quips-

“Who am I to deny the protection from such a handsome and caring knight?”

Those words, _her_ words. Made him feel like that longing sweetness in his chest swell, his emotions like the faint glittering of sapphire beginning to emerge from a sea of snow, oh so gently rousing from within. So carefully he tread forward, being sure to not fan the flames of how he felt _too_ quickly and scare her away.

\------

“And that, Ser Aymeric, is how we defeated the Warriors of Darkness.” Alphinaud said, turning back to look at Aymeric and Light, smiling broadly, his chest held high.

Aymeric laughed lightly “Such wondrous tales of you and the Warrior of Light of your adventures, I’m surely glad you are regaling them all to me.” He spoke without a hint of sarcasm, genuinely entranced with Alphinaud’s heroic retellings of him and Light.

Light, who walked in silence a few fulms behind Alphinaud as he stomped proudly ahead, clutching a compass and the large unfurled map that whipped around in the cold Coerthan wind. Between Alphinaud’s voice, only the thick muffled crunch of could be heard as they tread a new path through fresh sheets of snow, a blanket, pure, untouched everywhere they went.

Light look upwards, tracking the sun, they had been walking for a good part of the day, trudging through thick swathes. A blistering white horizon of snow and mountains lay before them, rocks jutted like fangs, peeking out of the white haze as snow fell lightly. In the skies beyond, dark sweeping clouds hung ominously, treading closer. Light glanced at the clouds, swollen and bloated, ready to burst. She frowned, a blizzard would be due to hit in the next few days.

Being in the wide open lands again, she felt an exhilarating swirl of adventure course through her. It was a welcome distraction to the stunningly handsome, well armoured elezen who was striding close to her. Occasionally, well,_ frequently_ she would look up and notice he was peering down at her, those light blue eyes glittering at her, glistening with care and something else she couldn’t quite place. He would catch her gaze then smile warmly at her, lip twitching subtly at being caught checking in on her, words unspoken as he went red at the ears.

“And THAT” Alphinaud announced after another story was told while they curved around some rocks, descending into a valley of untouched snow, “Is how we helped the Doman Liberation Front-”

“Alphinaud dear,” Light said, laughing, “As much as it is interesting hearing your dramatic retellings, surely Ser Aymeric would like to regale us of his own adventures for at least a part of this journey?”

She watched as he jerked, his head cringing at her words in embarrassment, ears burning red. He turned slightly to look at her, slowing his pace to the point her and Aymeric nearly bumped into him.

“B- but of course!” Alphinaud said, stuttering. He drew himself up tall and bowed slightly to Aymeric, “Please, Ser, I would love to hear of your adventures.”

Light put her hand to her mouth to stifle her laugh, her nose, numb from the frost brushed against the leather of her gloves as the biting cold seeped against her hands. She had known Alphinaud well enough to know that he had been carried away and at being called out, was absolutely mortified. She tightened her scarf around her neck, brushing stray flecks of snow out of her hair as the snow picked up, flurries twinkling in the mid afternoon sun as shafts of light poured down the snowy valley.

Aymeric made a slight humming noise, she watched as he brought his hand up to his chin in contemplation. Then he gave both her and Alphinaud a sheepish smile.

“Well I must admit, I may be a knight in origin, yet I have not embarked on anything too excitingly considered an adventure since my days at Camp Dragonhead.” Aymeric said, his voice low and honest and Light’s chest fluttered at how sincere he was being.

“Surely, some grand adventure in recent times?” Alphinaud pressed, shaking the snow off the map and studiously observing it. He clicked the compass open, nodded at it then began to lead the group down another cavernous path.

“Hm.” Aymeric said. Puffs of cold air billowed from him, “If I may be so bold,” he glanced at Light for a moment then swivelled his head around at their surroundings. “This may be my first grand adventure in a long time, and though it be under dire circumstances, I feel grateful to have the opportunity to walk beyond the walls of Ishgard, to see more of the realm-”

He paused, his eyes slowly swayed back round to snatch Light’s gaze, fixing her with a stare that pooled into her, captivating her for a brief moment.

“-_With you_.”

“That is awfully kind of you Ser Aymeric to say.” Alphinaud said, facing forward, not realising the knight’s words were intended only for one.

Light stifled a giggle at Alphinaud's innocence, as he busied himself with charting their path. She noticed he had been different, a little more perky.

\---

Aymeric was aware of Alphinaud’s harboured feelings for Light, but he was a man of reason and new it was just a small crush, nothing that one would even consider a ‘threat’. Considering the young elezen’s rather somber demeanor the day prior, he was very chipper this day considering. Aymeric couldn’t help but wonder that perhaps Haurchefant’s gallant talk to him roused the boy into reasoning with his feelings.

Quietly, Aymeric thanked Haurchefant for being so wise and kind to the young Scion.

In single file, the party paced downwards and out of the cavern. They broke out into snowy fields, stretching across to the edge leading towards the Dravanian Hinterlands. Towering, grey and black rocks jutted out, angled like a sharded barrier to the lands beyond. The sun was beginning to carve its way through the sky, dipping downwards past the horizon as the heavens began to darken, light blues and inky blacks blooming together to form the first fringes of night.

The atmosphere was calm, serene. Faintly, wild creatures called the coming of night, but they sounded distant, hollow. The thick crust of snow dampened every subtle sound, silencing the world around the trio.

Aymeric let his breath catch in his lungs, it was a beautiful sight. A grand vista of splendour lay before him. To share this journey with the Warrior of Light herself, no, not just the Warrior of Light, the woman who swam delicately beneath the depths of that title. The woman he wished to continue pursuing, her quirks, her personality, her feelings for him he could sense, small hints reaching out from her… She was like Coerthas, a cold snowy exterior, beautiful, untouched. But underneath...

“We should find a good place of shelter, make camp for the night.” Light’s voice sounded firm, though faint as Aymeric was lost in his moment of admiration. Too lost in fact, that he hadn’t realised she had slowed to a stop to assess the sky ahead.

There was a light thud and he collided with her, she was much smaller than he and she slid forward, losing her balance. She waved her staff trying to find leverage. With instinct, Aymeric lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her still. He heard her gasp, her body tensed fiercely in his arms. Then melted, relaxing slightly as she stared forward.

“Don’t worry my lady, I’ve got you.” Aymeric said coolly, close to her ear. He felt her shiver against him slightly. His arms felt electric to her touch as she raised a hand, placing it on his arm, gently squeezing it.

“That you do, Aymeric.” She said quietly, her tone wavering. She held a small laugh but he could feel her shake slightly.

Slowly, he let her go. Without looking at him, she finished walking down the hill.

\---

“This seems like a … preferable place… to make camp.” Alphinaud breathed, keeping his voice strong as he wavered on the spot.

Beneath towering rocks, curved over for shelter, shaped by years of ice and snow, the three of them stood, observing. Night was beginning to cave over them fully, the first specks of stars beginning to glitter into life, a few dots of pure blinding white among inky blues. The plateau they stood on overlooked the rest of the path ahead, as the fields of snow snow dipped untouched into the horizon below.

Light looked around, noticing Alphinaud swaying on the spot slightly. Because she was attuned to her White Mage magicks, she sensed something amiss. Not socially, but physically. She reached him in a few short strides, immediately placing the back of her hand against his forehead. Alphinaud looked dazed, quiet, normally she knew he’d react flustered at her contact but this time he looked weary, worn. And felt _warm. Too warm_.

“Alphinaud, you appear to be running a severe temperature.” She said quietly, leaning down slightly to reach his height, checking his eyes. “Have you been feeling like this all day?”

“Perhaps.” Alphinaud said, “I do not really know, Professor-”

Light said her given name correcting the confused boy, “Alphinaud, you’re sweating furiously.”

“But I feel so cold.” Alphinaud said, shivering.

“I fear Master Alphinaud has caught the flu.” Aymeric said, striding over to where she stood, having put the tents up. He knelt down to the young Elezens height, keenly observing him. “It was a common ailment when people travelled around in Coerthas, fresh, having been stifled within the warm confinements of Ishgard’s manors and hearths.”

“Mayhaps, I insisted we walk… for far too long…” Alphinaud said breathily, swaying even heavier. There was movement and he stumbled slightly. Light placed both arms on him to right him. She looked to her left, not realising how close Aymeric was and her stomach clenched, remembering how _strong_ he felt, clutching her around her waist. Pushing the feeling aside she focused on the sick friend in front of her.

“You need rest, let Aymeric take you to your tent and I shall tend to you soon.”

“You are both, too good to me.” Alphinaud said feebly, shivering as Aymeric laid a gentle palm on the small of his back, leading him to one of the tents. She could sense the flu was taking it’s delerium on the poor boy.

Light watched Aymeric thoughtfully as he gently led Alphinaud to the tent. She felt her lungs tense, watching him and his acts of kindness made her heart stir. He was truly too good for this world. What lay beneath that kind exterior, beneath hues of blue gold and black, steel clasps and considerate words?  
\---

Though he had not tended to a fire in the open wild since his days at Camp Dragonhead, too accustomed to the manor fires, the welcome hearths in Ishgard’s highborn houses, the muscle memory in starting a fire had not eluded him.

Against the biting cold, a fresh fire crackled and flared. Loud pops punched the air as firewood they had gathered on drier territory before the snowlands took light. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, absorbing as much warmth as he could from the flames.

The sound of shifting fabric flapped behind him and he turned to see a figure bathed in white emerge. She looked tired, eyes worn and sullen as she looked up and smiled slightly at him.

“I’ve managed to make the fever less severe.” Light said, wiping her hands as she stood up, walking around behind him as she fussed with a satchel, taking some food from it to eat quickly. “Though,” she said, “I did have to give him a lesson about the history of the Lost City of Amdapor and it’s discoveries… just to get him to sleep.” She chuckled slightly, taking a small bite of the fruit she held. “So I guess my lectures truly do put people to sleep when I teach them…”

Aymeric swallowed a chuckle, turning where he sat to face her, “My lady, having sat through some of them at the behest of Haurchefant and his procrastinate ways, I have to say they are in fact, not boring but informative and simply entrancing.”

Light let a hand slip to her face, to stifle the snort that was trying to escape her. “As always the politician of words” She said, walking out of sight again, “You simply say these words to flatter me.”

Aymeric looked over to where she spoke, she was standing at the edge of the plateau of rock, looking down towards the fields of snow. Moonlight swathed her, her white robes a glowing effigy in the night.

“I truly mean them.” He said, blushing.

There was a sudden movement as she sat down next to him, close. She raised her hands to the fire, relishing the heat. She brought her knees up to her chest and Aymeric noticed she was hugging them, looking at him, smiling.

“Truly?”

Aymeric fluttered his eyes “Truly.”

They sat in silence as the fire slowly wore itself out. He gazed up at the sky, now dark, a glittering ocean of stars swam above them, embellished among swirls of moonlight that basked down upon them. Normally he would have wanted to bring up conversation between them, small chat, or make her laugh but her presence, the silence that fell between them, was comforting. He didn’t feel awkward, he felt at ease, calm. Enjoying these idle moments felt right with her.

There was a light thud against his arm, a sudden shift in weight and he looked down to realise she had leaned against him, a bundle of white hair dishevelled against his arm.

“The matrons told me you had stayed each night.” She said suddenly, voice slow, calm. “Thank you.”

Aymeric stayed silent, enjoying the pressure of her against his arm. He made a small hum in reply to her.

“It is such a clear night.” She began, shifting her head slightly “You can see so many constellations, though I know not their names Haurchefant often can point out a few.”

Aymeric felt his chest rumble as he laughed, juddering against her slightly. “I know, because I was the one that taught him so. He often uses it as a way to charm people.”

Light gasped, speaking in a joyful burst of laughter “Of course he bloody would, I am not even surprised!”

They both shook together, trying to keep quiet as to not wake Alphinaud.

“The stars are beautiful though.” Aymeric said, his stomach jolted at how hackneyed he sounded and yet he pressed on, “I am glad I get to share this moment with you.”

“Hm.” Light said, shifting her legs in front of her, remaining pressed into his side, “They do look beautiful… rather beguiling from afar.”

He crooked his head to look down at her, noticed she was staring upwards, her bow shaped lips pressed thinly together, eyes hooded slightly.

“Do we truly know what stars are? Astrologians still yet yearn to discover their truths. They shine with such beauty, but truly… what if we were to one day find out what they were up close and underneath that blinding light… they are simply nothing more than a disappointment.”  
Her voice sounded soft, tapered, low with contemplation. Aymeric nudged her slightly, observing her face again. Her eyes met his, those pale golden jewels looking solemnly at him.

Aymeric was a man of intelligence, he knew what she was pertaining to and in that instant he wanted to just shake her softly, bury his face in her hair and whisper ungodly words of praise to her, to tell her all he knew of her so far made her far more dazzling than any star, far away and close.

“My lady, there is beauty and splendour in everything if one has the perception to find it.” Aymeric said, feeling cold air tense and swirl in the upper half of his chest.

Light scoffed humorously, a quick puff of cold air escaped her, billowing outwards as she made a small noise, moving to stand up.

A hand, her hand again met with his shoulder and she gave it a simple squeeze.

He was seeking, finding a way to break through that mask, to unhook it and to bury himself, free falling into what lay beneath, embracing everything. All of her.

She stood for another moment, next to him and he let the silence swallow them both. Far away, a creature howled, it’s voice ululating through the crisp clean air.

“Ah. I realise.” She said, breaking the silence, scratching her head. “Alphinaud’s flu means he has to sleep alone in the tent, quarantined. So our intended sleeping arrangements have been disrupted.” She went red. “So if it is of no bother to you, it is required that we share a tent instead…”

Aymeric swallowed. “But of course my lady, that is of no bother to me at all.”

“Good.” She said, a small smile on her face which he realised was maybe not for him. She turned briskly away, “Then if you’ll excuse me, I am in need of sleep.”

She moved past him, but suddenly winced, staggering. Aymric turned quickly in response, throwing an arm out as she gripped it.

“My lady-”

“It’s ok. Just, still a little worn from using aether when I’m recovering…” Light said, her voice pale. She righted herself then limped towards the tent. He let her go quietly.

\---

Aymeric stayed until the fire had become naught but embers, orange and black, brittle flakes of charred remains that simmered in the dying heat. He found he wasn’t tired, but decided he should try and feign some sleep. Perhaps, like a nervous teenage he was a little on edge knowing he would share the same space with Light. Which was silly, he thought, for he had just spent most of the last few nights sleeping in the Medical Ward, sunk into the plush armchair whilst she lay in her deathless slumber.

Either way, he knew he would have to retire into the tent.

Slipping through the folds of the tent he was quiet, the dim light of the lantern still burned, glittering from magick. Out of politeness he only glanced briefly at the figure of Light, buried in her sleeping bag, swathes of hair like a white nest as her head rested amongst it.

Shucking the outer layers of his armour he then gently slid into thick layers of fleece and fabric, stifling a small exhale of comfort as he felt snug.

He heard shuffling and turned his head to look at her.

She was lying, facing upwards, her eyes wide open, staring upwards.  
“My lady did I wake you?” Aymeric murmured in hushed tones. She shook her head.

“Nay, it appears I am unable to slip into sleep.” She sighed. She smiled to herself. “I guess my mind has other ideas and wishes to ruminate.”

Aymeric chewed his lip, words forming, ready to spill.

“If it is not too much of a hassle, perhaps you can share with me what ails you.” He said, wanting to reach out.

She scoffed again, that humoured, non malicious scoff that she made.

“There is a certain irony in this.” She said, turning to face him, “It appears the unwillingness to open up fully to people is what ails me in my mind tonight.”

She paused, staring at him then spoke again in a flurry of words, heated, pained.

“What if I’m a disappointment? What if I’m simply a beguiling witch, trickster of appearances, the real me simply a rotten plant?”

“Quite simply,” Aymeric said. “If one were let in, I have an instinctive feeling that perhaps underneath, there is nought but a fine garden, an eden of flowering personality that one would be grateful and damned lucky to see.”

He heard a small sigh, it wasn’t negative, but almost dreamy like. He noticed she was red in the face, eyes had watered over slightly. Her reaction triggered him to look away, realising he was riding a wild wave of being too… _sentimental_ tonight.

“I wish I could let people in.” she said, turning back, peering upwards to the roof of the tent. “Accept and let people care for the real me.” “I’m scared to. I do not know why but I’m scared to.”

Aymeric made a small hum, then reached a hand out, curling it into a fist and knocked gently against the metal of the lantern that sat between them. The hollow sound of metal tinkled in the air. Her eyes widened and she tilted her head down, her face disappearing into the blankets, nesting amongst pools of white hair as she looked over at him with a puzzled expression.

He gave her a warm smile.

“What are you doing?” She asked, her eyebrows knitted together.

“I’m knocking.”

“Knocking?”

“Yes, I’m knocking, asking to be let in.”

He watched as her face went red, though the lamplight was dim he could see her wide eyes creasing slightly.

“Oh.” she said in surprise.

He knocked again, looking at her, holding her stare with a grin. Then again. She laughed quietly.

“Hush, you are going to wake Alphinaud up!” She hissed quietly, trying to stifle her giggle. Aymeric felt something cool and smooth clasp around his fist firmly. He blinked and looked down.

She had placed her hand upon his fist to stop him, but had kept it there even when he had desist. His chest fluttered slightly and it was his turn to blush. Dipping his head behind the curve of his sleeping bag he looked up at her once again.

Her eyes had closed, but her hand remained.

Silence fell between them and he kept watching her even when the flame of the lantern dipped low, her slow breathing indicated she had drifted asleep. He shuffled, letting his ears clip against the fleece of the blankets he was under as he readied himself to also fall asleep.

“Aymeric?” came her muffled sleepy voice from beneath the heavy blankets, soft, gentle. He felt a slight squeeze of her hand still around his and he stretched his palm open before closing them again, letting her small nimble fingers entwine with his.

“Mhm?” He said, his voice low, his eyes drifting shut.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between our WoL and Aymeric I'm hoping this is the end of their awkwardness (not all of it though!) and onto actual progression of them getting to just comfortable banter between each other! 
> 
> Hope you packed a lot of snacks because this is one sloooow agonising ride of a burn...


	16. Blood and Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to push the heat that seeped into his eyes down, away, trying so hard to repel tears. Truly, he hated caring. He hated that beings of flesh and blood can evoke such, feelings from him. It made him feel weak, foolish. And she… Vul… Professor Light… The Warrior, she drove him mad. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** BIG NOTE: Just quickly wanting to say for the sake of I wanted to keep this mostly within the Uni, I'm combining the chapters together of their journey to find Estinien so don't be alarmed if this chapter suddenly (soon) has the previous one attached to it! **
> 
> ALSO SLIGHT SPOILERS: There is a little mention of Stormblood/Shadowbringers spoilers in here so be warned! 
> 
> Lot of action this one and finally the conclusion to Estinien's little runaway arc! 
> 
> My intended plan with it was it to explore a few developments with some of the characters so I hope that came across well!
> 
>   
Heckin, I've had to add Alphinaud/WoL tags to this just for this chapter and those previous. Though I intend to tie up most of his little crush arc in this chapter, we all know he'll still have something lingering faintly in the background.
> 
> Also the whole time I just imagined Alphinaud screaming the lyrics to Mr Brightside by the Killers in his head. Hahahaha... hah.
> 
> What was simply meant to be a one shot of Alphinaud drawing a picture of Prof. Light and having a little crush has now morphed into this mad long monologue about being young and having feelings.
> 
> I realise that Alphinaud is pretty radical about his decisions. I think I wanted to portray that rather scattered way people think when developing a crush, mixed with what they think is love when perhaps it’s something else. That tumbling journey to figure out what someone means to them.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk about Alphinaud being a confused young elezen just trying to deal with hormones.  
_______________________________

Hunched over the fire, Estinien tore more meat from his meagre hunt, sitting still, a long lithe figure of regret.

He pulled his cloak closer to himself, wrapped around his waist as he growled, tossing the remains of his meal into the fire, snorting cold air like a restless dog.

He was finding it hard to eat, rage and anxiety roared from within, clenching his stomach roughly within it’s fists, twisting, pulling and writhing.

The same thoughts spiralled around his head as he looked over the rolling cliffs of The Churning Mists from the small alcove he rested in.

_Did I kill her? Did I kill the Warrior of Light?_

Perhaps he did. He went too far. His primal urge to find a worthy opponent had gone too far, beyond the precipice of self control. The flightful fancy of a friendly rival had come across far too aggressive and resulted in… in death.

Furiously he kicked dirt over the fire, tossed his satchel across his back and leapt up to higher ground, ready to walk off these thoughts, tire himself out, wear himself thin so he can stop thinking. Quell these regrets.

Oh how mad Aymeric must be at him.

_I’m a godsdammed idiot. A true wretched thing. Halone forgive me._

Another twist of guilt gnawed, snarled from within.

\---

_She must have needed that rest, how peaceful she looks, _Aymeric mused, slowly blinking awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his available hand.

As if preserved in time, his hand was still clasped firmly around Light’s.

The elezen felt a small twinge in his heart, an unwillingness to untangle his long fingers from hers, but morning had come, blisteringly fast... and he had been woken by the heavy coughing from the tent next to theirs. Alphinaud must be awake and needing tended to.

Slowly, he slinked from the sleeping bag, leaning forward.

Carefully, he placed his lips against her hand, small, light. Even that was enough to make his stomach leap. Her hand was calloused yet soft, warm and inviting.

Then, he slipped his fingers with great care from hers. He paused as she shuffled slowly, making a small noise as she turned slightly in her sleep. She mumbled something along the lines of _“Thank you.” _Before lying still once again.

He wished he could simply lie next to her for the rest of the day.

\----

The fever had gripped Alphinaud so sudden, so madly. He had spent the day prior walking with great purpose, pushing forward, focusing on the journey. It was his distraction, his way of brushing aside his crush, he didn’t want it to get in the way of his already awkward interactions (of late) with the Warrior of Light.

He admired her greatly, as did his sister. The two of them always wanted her attention and it wasn’t until he joined the University his convoluted mix of emotions and the fact he was growing into a young man caused him to feel this awkward plethora of sentiment towards her.

She was older than him by seven years and yet the way she acted at times it was as if she was as young as the day she joined the Scions all those years ago.

And now. Now he was lying, a hot sweaty mess within swathes of blankets, whilst Professor Aymeric, the man he _knew _she coveted, pressed the back of his hand against his forehead.

And yet. He didn’t feel jealous, anger, or a need to poke holes, to ask questions beyond his depth about love or crushes or what Aymeric, no Professor Aymeric, his Professor, thought of the Warrior of Light.

It was as if the fever had cleansed him, as if he had time away from his own mind to work out his priorities, lay waste to the irrational flurry of heated hormones that coursed through him.

And so he smiled at Aymeric, relief washing over him when the fellow elezen said it appeared the fever had broken, that Light would be pleased and that she was worried about him.

_Worried like a member of our little family, the Scions,_ _would be_ Alphinaud thought, clutching the blankets around his blushing face a little closer, staring mindlessly into Aymeric’s eyes as he continued to speak, but he was still zoned out, circling this sudden relief in his mind's eye.

Like gaining the reigns on his bewildering emotions for the first time, he couldn’t help but feel like things seemed a little clearer.

He had a long way to go, but it was a start.

\---

“How is your aether today?” came a voice, rising up and down as Alphinaud skipped up next to Light, her given name spoken in a spirited tone.

She looked down, smiling at him which burst into a grin. “I feel amazing actually, the best sleep I had in awhile, hopefully I can change to another class if required.” She leant slightly, narrowing her eyes at him comedically “And you-”

She pressed her hand against his head and she watched as he stuttered at her sudden contact. “Ah Aymeric was right, it does seem like you have broken your fever. That was fast.”

“Only because I had the best White Mage to nurse me back to health.” Alphinaud chimed. Light threw her head back, laughing raucously.

“You have been mingling with Haurchefant far too long.” She said, grabbing him playfully and rustling his hair, letting him squirm slightly. She noticed he had grown a little taller since the last time she had done that, many years ago. “And for that, to pass the time I’m going to give you a quiz. You _did _say you wished to do some studying whilst we travelled, no?”

“But of course! An academic never strays too far from their studies, even when duty calls.” Alphinaud said pompously, thrusting his chest out and raising a finger.

Light was feeling sprightly. In fact too sprightly. But she wasn’t going to lie, whatever bewitching magic Aymeric had between his fingers had worked on her… and she managed to sleep well that night. She could feel her aether stir within her, vibrant, happy.

That small thread, a small connection with Aymeric she felt had finally formed. She was letting him in, slowly but surely. And it felt _good._

It felt _right._

Aymeric had been watching them from afar, head turned at their interaction but she noticed he was observing _her. _She flashed him a dazzling smile and she noticed him jolt, swivelling his back round to focus on the map and compass as he took the lead for today.

It was clear skies, they had evaded the oncoming storm which had swerved further East from where they walked, yet still thundering towards Ishgard far behind them.

They trailed through ruins, the snow lessening as they travelled through the Dravanian Forelands and then up, up through draconic ruins, weaving their way through mountains and slopes jagged rocks untouched for centuries, worn through old battles, destruction wrought from the Dragonsong war in more recent times.

Light caught up with Aymeric and they travelled in comfortable silence whilst Alphinaud dove into a book Light had given him ( _“Can I have some light reading then if I still wish to study, Professor?” _)

She had been watching him, noticing how enraptured he was with their surroundings. It made her smile, he was like a child seeing the world for the first time. The sun was at its peak in the sky, casting glimmering shadows as aether hung in the air like electricity, glittering motes of magicks emanated from this archaic wonderland that belonged to dragonkin.

Though it was a much less violently cold environment, it was still chilly, like an early spring that clung to the remnants of winter. The air was fresh, cool and less harsh than Ishgard, Light puffed up and made a loud sigh, enjoying the air. She opened one eye, noticing Aymeric look past her, observing the land below. They had wound their way up the hill in Avalonia Fallen, nearing towards the towering structure of Anyx Trine.

“Like what you see?” She said, gently patting his arm, hearing his armour clink as he looked down to look at her, those blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight with unkempt joy.

“Very much so.” He breathed, giving her a lingering stare. Coyly, she smiled.

“You do know I mean the Forelands?” Light said in jest, squeezing his arm. He laughed, his ears going red at her catching him and his attempts to flirt. They stopped as they realised Alphinaud had lagged behind, stumbling over rocky terrain as he danced his attention between the book and keeping stock of his surroundings.

“Tell me,” Aymeric said, shuffling the map and tucking it away alongside the compass, “What areas do you revere most on your travels here?”

Thoughtfully she placed a fingers on her lips, feeling his gaze graze over her.

“Well back when we travelled here a lot for duties as Warrior of Light, we had to fight Ravana but-”

“-No.” Aymeric said firmly. There was a sudden movement and Light felt contact on her left hand. She looked as he swept her hand up, fingers weaving with her own, clasping it as firmly as he did the night prior. Her chirpy exterior wobbled, bordering on flustered and she bit her tongue mid sentence.

“Tell me why _you _, just _you _. Like these areas and why?” Aymeric said, his voice low, silken, flowing like honey to her ears. He had bent over her, smiling so kindly and thoughtfully.

Internally, she heard the sharp sound of porcelain, the mask, half of it crumbling away into dust, powdered, flittering away from the edges of her mind.

_Gods when did he begin to look so impossibly kissable? _Light thought, her mind staggering to find composure. Her lungs decided to migrate to the top of her chest and she bit back her breath as it choked in her throat.

“Tell me,” He said again, “I want to hear it all.”

And so she did.

As Alphinaud caught up, announcing their arrival at Anyx Trine they crept through the ruins, hallowed yet filled with peace. As they wove their way through sleeping dragons, up through crumbling stairs and across through vast chambers, Light told Aymeric of her favourite areas in Coerthas and the lands beyond.

Carried away and speaking with such ease to the elezen, she felt herself floating away on an endless tangent of wanderlust, describing areas she herself revered. Coastal beaches with sand bleached by the sun, towering forests in the Black Shroud. Even areas in another world, a glittering tower that pierced the heavens, the night returned.

All the while he held her hand. And she let him.

And all the way she looked at him in adoration, tripping over rocks and stumbling because she let herself get so _distracted._

She continued to freefall.

\---

They had set up camp just outside Moghome, having broke through the final tunnel past Anyx Trine, stretching up and outwards into the Churning Mists. A beautiful land of grass and rocks floated in the sky, framed by the setting sun.

Aymeric had decided to venture once the tents were set up to find kindling for the fire, leaving Light and Alphinaud to instead study.

Alphinaud was grateful that though they were on a perilous journey to find the esteemed broody Dragoon, that Light would take time to teach him. He was one to fill his mind with as much knowledge as he could. Unlike his sister, knowledge was _his _power.

Parchments and small travel size books littered the grass around them,

They sat in silence whilst Light marked what quizzes he had done, cross checking them with books.

“If I may be bold-” Alphinaud began, he was lying on his stomach, brushing the quill against his face, “We have known each other for almost half a decade now?”

“Of course,” Light said, looking at him, “Though I think we have fared longer than that now.”

He shuffled into a sitting position, hugging his knees close to himself. He stared straight ahead at the formation of rocks that was to be the fire, “And, I feel that we can share with each other anything at this point, yes?”

He saw from the side of his vision as Light paused mid writing, placing the quill down and looking at him.

“Alphinaud, what appears to be on your mind?” She said, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

He said her given name, her real name, then paused, playing with the fabric of his travel boots, picking at the leather.

“Tell me,” he said, looking at her, his braid shifting against his neck as he craned it, “What are your intentions with Professor Aymeric?”

He felt the question, searing hot, leave him like a spear. It was an impulsive throw, it shot from him as if in that one moment of weakness, he had lost self control and an insane curiosity, fueled by that image of them holding hands.

He watched as she went to a deep red, her mouth parted slightly.

“Alphinaud I have watched you grow up with Alisaie, we have faced many dangers, overcome many trials, shared many things, yet why the sudden interest in the affairs of my heart?” She sounded deflective. Alphinaud felt his nails sink into the leather of his boots, trying to find purchase as he academically put together his next response with very little success.

“I do not know. I apologise. I just care.”

“I know you do, Alphinaud.” Light said. “I am just a little taken aback by your curiosity, if you must know then I do not know myself. It is not something I have not had the time nor place to think about since-”

“ _Thancred. _” Alphinaud said, the name came from him so easily, with such a bluntness that burst a bubble of tension between them as an awkward blanket of silence fell instead as a result.

“Well, yes.”

He looked at her hotly. “I just. You ran away after that all ended. But I could have been there. I could have comforted you.”

His resolve, that fever, everything he had garnered this morning swept away by his sudden uncontrollable desire to _confess _. He watched her, robed still in her White Mage garb, gold and red embroidery a heavenly sheen against the setting sun.

“Alphinaud, you were naught but ten and six summers of age,” Light said, her eyes simmered with concern, “You had your own worries dealing with other things, not something as trivial as my relationship with someone.”

“I’m not… I realise I am not being clear.” Alphinaud said, turning to face her, his knees digging into the ground as he leaned on them.

His hands dug into the fabric of his trousers, pushing his legs into the dirt as he knelt, seeing his knuckles turn white as frost. He stared at them fiercely, feeling the words lurk within his throat, trying to find their way out. Then he looked up, finding her looking at him.

“I don’t know in what form I do, but you must know that… that I love you.”

Silence. An orange sky. A small breeze tapered between them, the falling night suddenly felt cold.

Alphinaud’s skin prickled, goosebumps scattering across his exposed skin, lurking under his clothes. He trembled at the sudden aching quiet between them, his words filling the void in front. He forced himself to maintain his stare, to bore his burning blue eyes into her own, beautiful yellow eyes, glazed over by his words.

It was a game of courage, to see who would speak first. For the sake of politeness, he thought, _please say something dear warrior. Please._

Alas, his own fidgeting impatience meant he relented first.

“I mean I know I sound positively crazy, to suddenly say this... I just mean to say that-” Alphinaud floundered, his lips moving at such speed he didn’t even know what he was saying.

He was drowning, muffled by blood pounding in his ears, suddenly, cut short as a taller body enveloped themselves around him, a tight embrace. The smell of clean spring air met his lungs, mixed with a fresh smell of cotton. The feel of fine velveteen fabrics laced between his fingers as his hands clasped her back, as the warrior embraced him, pulling him tight.

“Professor… Light… I mean uh-” Alphinaud stammered her given name “I’m sorry I’m sorry I said anything. Pray forgive me and my tactless intent!”

“Alphinaud.” She mumbled, kneeling in front of him.

She pulled away, pushing him back by the shoulders, smiling kindly. Tears dangerously lingered at her eye line, lingering like dewy gems that glistened.

“I love you too.” She said, “As one would love a younger sibling.”

_Ah yes _, _of course. _He thought.

“Is that why you have been acting weird?” She continued.

He shook his head but it rolled into a nod as he blushed.

He thought he’d feel disappointment at her words, that feeling it’d never be more but in fact he felt elated, sweet relief. A conclusion to this caper of a play as the curtains finally, after the encore, drew to a close.

“I remember being your age, I remember how confusing the world was with those feelings but trust me, you’ll know. You’ll just know and it’ll all fall into place.” She paused, looking thoughtfully in the direction of the path Aymeric had taken earlier,

“If you let it.”

“I know.” He said simply, trying to not sniff. “But what of Thancred? Why didn’t that work? Why did you run?”

He was touching on a subject he knew was delicate but really, nothing was hidden between the two of them now, after his humiliating declaration.

Light bit her lip, looking at him. He could tell she was trying to avoid the topic but to his surprise she responded curtly.

“Sometimes you want to love someone back but you simply just... can’t. Even if they give you everything they have.”

She looked forlorn, suddenly tilting her head away from him as if realising a great fear that lingered.

“I apologise. I did not mean to press you with such an awkward question.” Alphinaud said suddenly, putting his arms up to try and comfort her but she spun her head round with great force, grinning from ear to ear.

“Anyway, _much _more importantly, I have seen many a girl try and approach you in the corridor, why have you not tried to court any of them with your mysteriously academic flirtatious ways?” She humoured, standing up, arms on her sides. Alphinaud sputtered at her crassness.

Truly _she _was the one that had spent too much time around Haurchefant.

\---

Aymeric lay awake, staring at the tent of the ceiling. With small light snores equivalent to that of a dormouse, Alphinaud was deep in his slumber, back turned to him on the other side of the tent.

Aymeric ran his hands through his hair before dragging fingers across the palm of his right hand, where he had held Light’s for most of the day.

_Maybe he should have tried to kiss her? Hm. No, we’re here for Estinien. Have focus you silly fool._

His mind drifted to his close friend and his cormadarie with Estinien. They had known each other since those days at Camp Dragonhead, training to be knights. He had saved him from a fierce encounter with a dragon and in return their mutual friendship became akin to that of brotherhood.

Though he was revered as a stern and strict teacher of combat within the University, he had grown popular with the students through that method, his classes were always filled up within hours of signup and often Aymeric would be hounded by students asking if he could pull favours and get them into Estinien’s class. Most of which Estinien scoffed at and denied, much to the student’s chagrin.

Outside of his teaching status, Aymeric knew of his desire to find someone equal in battle to him, to keep him on his toes. As if he were searching for a partner, someone he could find he could trust through the will and means of fighting.

As if an act of violence was how he gained his friendships.

He was not one for staying in one place and he knew that if Estinien had run then clearly he had a lot on his mind, something Aymeric knew as he had to hunt down Estinien many a time within the high towers of Ishgard and Coerthas, trying to coax him to talk about his feelings. That, which never happened with much success.

Estinien has wandered further than before Aymeric thought. Often it was near Falcon’s Nest or Camp Dragonhead but this time, he had ventured well beyond the realm of simply a few hours search.

_What are you thinking Estinien? Shame? Hurt? A need to fight her again? Does he think he killed her? Just come home..._

Aymeric was suddenly jolted from his ruminative thoughts as he heard a rough shuffling of fabric. He craned his head, his ears picked up the sound from the tent next to him.

He sat up, staying still to hear more shuffling then a pause. _Was she awake?_

Catlike he neatly prowled to the flap of his tent entrance and peered out.

A figure, swirling fabric of white, ethereal-like under the clear moonlight was disappearing through the shadows of trees and rocks into the gloominess, footsteps light and fast.

A White Mage staff was bobbing, strapped upon their back.

\---

“Estinien?”

His stomach curled in on itself, her voice he tried to ignore.

“Halone forefend, may you be a ghost of my regrets.” He growled under his breath.

He heard her step towards him. He kept still, crouched, staring heatedly over the dark horizon of the Churning Mists. His mind boiled, berating himself for being brazen enough to let himself stray near their campsite. He had felt their aether, their presence and had to confirm who it was.

“I thought I could sense your aether, you’ve been tracking us since we arrived no? Aymeric will be glad to see you are ok.”

“Leave me be.” He responded through clenched teeth.

“Not even a hello would suffice?” She quipped and he heard her slow to a stop a few paces from him, the sound of gravel cutting through his brooding, irritating him.

“Well at least you are alive.” He grunted. The regret, it twisted still furiously inside him, numbing that feeling of relief that she was actually in fact, ok.

“Why thank you, perhaps you wish to turn around and speak to me proper?” Her voice sounded blunt. _She has every right to be mad._

They were poised in silence. Like a force that was gripping him tightly, he strained against it, forcing himself to stand up, to face his mistakes.

As he turned, he hadn’t realised how close she was.

The Vul looked healthy, tired, but perfectly undamaged from his bloodthirsty fight with her. For some reason he was delirious from lack of proper nutrition and sleep, trying to let his ruminations not pierce his very thoughts any longer. He thought he had finally sank to that level of madness, where perhaps she were simply an aetheric projection, a spirit, intent on tormenting her. _Was she truly real?_

“You are-” He said, letting his scowling face slip into a picture of soft shock.“You are fine?”

“Of course I am.” Vul said coyly, hiding a small smirk. “Had you thought you had killed me? It will take much more than that I’m afraid-”

The space between them had closed. With one swift movement he had grabbed her, wrapping his arms tightly around her with little regard to her frame or wellbeing. Fiercely he squeezed her, pressing his face into her hair. He bit his lip so hard he drew blood, his face contorted as he tried with every fibre of his being not to slip.

_Godsdamn you. Godsdamn it all._

He heaved, bringing what strength he had to force the words from his lips.

“I apologise. Pray, I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me for what I did.” His voice sounded rough, croaked against her hair. But he meant every word of it.

He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to push the heat that seeped into his eyes down, away, trying so hard to repel tears. Truly, he hated caring. He hated that beings of flesh and blood can evoke such, _feelings _from him. It made him feel weak, foolish. And _she… Vul… Professor Light… The Warrior, she drove him mad._

He only cared for her well being because Aymeric cared. He would follow Aymeric to every ends of the realm and to have let himself harm the woman that he…

The woman who now, was struggling in his grip a little. He grunted, hearing her repeat his name several times and yet he didn’t relent to her request. Clenching the torso of his armour she pushed him away, letting his arms drift to his sides once again, strands of white hair fell like curtains across his face, messy, unkempt.

“Estinien…” She gasped, her face flushed. “It is ok. I forgive you but... you… need to _bathe _.”

He snarled, but it formed an awkward grin, trying to laugh at her pitiful truth.

\---

“I suppose I should return you to camp, let the prince know I, his servant of combat is fine and well.” Estinien chastised himself in dark humour. Vul chuckled at him at his choice of words.

“Why do you and Haurchefant refer to Aymeric as a prince so often?” She asked, turning away to make a start on their journey back towards camp.

“It is simply a title we give him out of affection, or such.” Estinien said bluntly, slinging his satchel over his spear and balancing it on his shoulder, “I suppose that makes you his princess?”

He watched as she stumbled, a sudden jerk of her head to look at him. “Well that is not very much a precise assumption to make.” She said thickly, frowning at him, “To label something as such is a little bit untoward of you.”

He grinned at her, giving her a dark look, “Ah, I see you run from your emotions too.”

Estinien watched as she fiercely pointed her staff at him “I do not-”

“You lie.” He interrupted her. “Besides, I feel _Princess Vul _is quite the apt title is it not?” He ducked, missing a spell as it swished past his head, thrown from angry fingers.

“I’ll have you know I was the Warrior of Darkness once.” She retorted, glaring at him with a twisted smile.

Estinien licked his lips, parting them to enquire further, but a sudden change in pressure in his surroundings caused him to stiffen. Frozen on the spot he looked across the plateau to Vul, who had gone still. Her eyes like lamps in the darkness, wide with sudden fear.

“Did you feel that?” She said, voice more inaudible than a whisper. Yes, he felt it, his aether stirred, a thick uncomfortably itchy feeling that emanated through his marrow, resonating through his skin and causing him to shiver with violent discomfort.

“This aether is unnatural.” He hissed, still stiff.

“It’s… no…” Vul gasped, “It’s void magicks.”

“We need to leave.” He growled, “Now.”

Quickly and as quietly as they could, they slipped down the rocky path, sliding across unbalanced ground, stones crumbling beneath their feet. They slinked through the darkness, yet Estinien couldn’t shake that feeling, the feeling this uncomfortable pressure was following them.

\---

“Estinien?” Aymeric gasped, appearing through dead trees, caged over him like lingering skeletal fingers, “Full glad I am to see you are ok!”

The dragoon caught sight of him immediately, across the rocky plain between them. His familiar armour, a figure of princely beauty against the haggard environment. In the further distance he spotted the camp, the faint orange glow of a dying fire a beacon against the midnight blues of the night.

“You need to move, take shelter somewhere else.” Estinien hissed, “I fear something is amiss and pursuing us during this witching hour.”

“AH.” Came a loud exhale of noise behind him. “You two, stay away!” It was Vul’s voice.

He saw Aymeric’s eyes widen, his jaw falling open slowly and he turned, twisting through his armour to spin his body violently round to witness what was happening.

A thick, stagnant smell, sulfur like, filled the air.

Swirling plumes of purple and black ethereal smoke appeared, a tear, towering between him and where Vul stood, frozen amongst the undergrowth where they had emerged.

The air crackled, lightning scorched through from the smoke, Estinien felt every hair on his being prickle from the static. His heart stopped, as he steeled himself, the throbbing of adrenaline thundering through his blood.

It was grotesque, disgusting. A sickly stench punched the air, cloying, marred by the smell of burnt flesh. He had never seen anything as hellbent and horrific in forever.

Gargoyle like, the Voidsent slunk from the portal, purple smoke spreading out like a thick fog across the floor of the plain.

“Get back!” Estinien roared to Aymeric, drawing his spear and with the force of Halone herself, thrust forward in one smooth sweep, travelling at such a reflexed speed that he may be a bolt of lightning himself.

The Voidsent snarled, thick belches of spit spraying the air as Estinien swung his spear up, bringing it down across its torso. The monster screeched, writhing into the air and swiftly tried to swing its tail at him. He backflipped, letting scales miss him by ilms as he slid to a stop, his hand grinding into the ground for leverage.

His heart roared in his chest, he felt dizzy. He cursed for not looking after himself properly due to his pathetic brooding.

“I told you both to get back!” Came a shrill cry. He looked up, Vul had ran forward, her staff withdrawn. Sliding on her feet in a flurry of dust between the monsters legs she made her way to its front, standing between the creature, blocking its path to Estinien and Aymeric.

“LIKE HELLS WE WOULD LEAVE YOU TO DEAL WITH THIS ALONE!” Estinien bellowed, biting back his fatigue, snarling.

“Rightly said.” Aymeric called, joining Estinien’s side, drawing his sword. The Dragoon snapped his head towards him, scowling.

“No, you get back Aymeric. If any harm comes to you I doubt your princess would be happy.”

Aymeric shot him a cool glare.

“Nay, Estinien. If you are to fight we fight together. You are fatigued and her aether is still recovering, a woman of the cloth is all she can handle.”

Estinien felt his stomach pang, aether sparkled all around them as he watched Vul throw her arms out. Thrusting her staff above her head she began to ascend, He did not ken white magicks but he harboured a guess that she was casting Holy.

The Voidesnt roared, lurching its body forwards towards her. There was a small orb of light that emerged, rising slowly towards the creature. With the tolling noise similar to that of a church bell, the orb exploded, white magick bursting like a firework, stunning the monster.

In her gentle fall, Vul swung the staff round, casting an offensive spell, small star like shapes spun round, swiftly blinding the voidsent.

There was a loud screech, guttural, ululating into the night. Estinien watched as with one fell sweep of its claw, it swiped upwards, batting Vul far into the air. Next to him, he heard Aymeric cry out.

The Voidsent reared back, opening its maw. Scaled claws found purchase in the ground as it welled up. There was the same sickening sulfur smell, it filled the air, choking Estinien.

A sudden flicker of a spark.

Then a precise, almost lazer like bellow of voidfire, purple, furious, streaked through the sky.

Estinien roared, charging forward. He felt the pull of aether next to him and noticed Aymeric was running with him. They met the monster in seconds, swinging their weapons with great fury.

_Crack!_

It split through the air, a gunshot noise.

Estinien peered up, hair fraying across his furrowed brow.

A figure shot down, a glint of an unusual blade. The smell of gunpowder and burnt aether cut through the stench of the Voidsent.

The creature spun, trying to make sense of what was happening, as the blade sliced cleanly through one of its wings, a spray of black blood spattered across the ground. Estinien grabbed Aymeric by the arm, swinging him out of the way from the creature as it trampled in circles.

“By the Fury.” Aymeric said, his voice breathless, looking round to where the figure had landed.

Estinien followed his gaze, to see Vul, a large blade like gun protruding from one of her hands. He gleaned from his memories, remembered he had seen one of these weapons before, a gunblade. But unlike the Garlean weapons it was more unique, powered by aether. She was clothed fully in black, leather clad armour with a long flowing coat, embellished with gold markings.

“I said. _Get back _.” Her eyes glowered at the two elezen, a stare more dark than anything Estinien had seen her do, even when they were fighting each other.

Aymeric called her true name, “We can’t let you do this alone! Let me fight with you!”

“No.” She said, “Let me protect you this time.” Estinien could feel her exerting aether at great volumes, the pressure was almost crushing. A small part of him twinged, a bolt of worry shot through him, concern she was pushing her aether too far. He stifled the worry.

“Bugger it. Damn it all to hells.” Estinien growled, “I do as I want! But you,” he shot a look at Aymeric, “Do as she says.” He knew what she was capable of, he knew she was strong.

Aymeric mouthed soundlessly at him and before they had time to react, another sudden pang of sulfur filled the air.

Purple, streaking flames sliced between them as he and Aymeric jumped to either side, rolling across the ground. Slick with black blood and dirt, Estinien gripped his spear harder and lunged at the creature. There was a dash of black and gold to his right and Vul had surged forward, a sudden gunshot cracked through the air once again and she spiralled upwards, blade drilling through a layer of gunsmoke and voidfire. She flipped, surging down and landed onto the giant creature’s neck.

The scream was shrill. The creature bucked madly. Estinien darted between its legs, trying to find an opening to attack. He saw the glint of Vul’s gunblade as she tried to position it at the top of the Voidsent’s head, trying to deal that sacred final blow.

There was another scream and with ease, the Voidsent threw Vul off. She flew in an arc over the air then tumbled onto the ground, rolling and skittering across gravel in a shower of dust and rocks.

_Let the dragoon deal the final blow you complete pillock! _He crouched, then leapt many fulms into the air. He was high enough he could see clearly how he could land upon the creature.

And yet still close enough to see the next scene unfurl in slow motion before him.

Aymeric had knocked back the creature with his sword, it recoiled. He turned to see Vul had rolled away but looked back, noticing the creature had not its eyes on him, but on _her _.

Its giant maw opened once again. That spark of aether.

Estinien watched Aymeric spin on his heel, running towards Vul, as she slowly stood, clutching her arm and shaking. He could hear Aymeric crying her name, stumbling towards her. He could just make out his face, contorted in determination. Vul’s face, pale with shock.

The hot streak of voidfire, trailing towards both of them at great speed.

Aymeric dived, grappling Vul tight within his arms, knocking her to the side. They tumbled.

Estinien didn’t know what happened next for he had flexed every muscle in his body, pointed his spear with pinpoint precision where he intended to land and then streaked downwards with great speed.

The Voidsent’s skull offered no resistance as he plummeted through it. Like the keenest blade he swept cleanly through the creature, the final blow so fast that it had no time to react. There was that familiar stench mixed with the crackling of lightning and the creature dissipated, fading into plumes of purple smoke and shreds of flesh, scattering into the sky as they disappeared.With one violent flick, globs of Voidsent blood splattered from his spear onto the ground. He would clean it later. Perhaps take a bath too.

Estinien doubled over from fatigue, blood pounded in his ears. As his bearings slowly came back to him he realised that someone had been shouting, their voice pained with anguish.

Estinien looked towards the noise. He saw her body, hunched over his. Over Aymeric’s.

“Aymeric it’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. I promise.” Her voice was urgent, stuttering.

Aymeric, you godsdammed fool. You utter idiot.

As Estinien approached swiftly he noticed she was shaking violently. Tugging a handkerchief from her hair, he watched as the blue gold and blacks of the fabric bloomed red as she pressed it against the gash that split across Aymeric’s side. His armour was torn, scorched. Exposed flesh red and searing against his pale skin. Estinien knelt by them. he could tell the adrenaline had kicked in as Aymeric was shaking, his face wide with shock.

“It’ll be ok it’ll be ok-” Light kept saying. Aymeric reached a hand up, placing it on her face as she hurriedly tore fabric from her coat, tying it around him to put pressure on the wound with the help of Estinien.

Aymeric uttered her name, Estinien watched as she feverishly looked at Aymeric. Her eyes were red, tears coating her face as he could tell she was on the borderline of hyperventilating.

“You’re so beautiful.” Aymeric croaked.

She clutched his hand, pressing it back onto his other hand as she applied more pressure. “Aymeric don’t.”

“We can take you to Moghome, the Moogles can help.” Estinien said, hiding his worry. He remained calm, his voice stiff, gruff. “We must make haste if we are to see him tended.”

“No!” Light howled. “I can save him now!”

There was the familiar unusual sound Estinien remembered from the gymnasium. In a faint flash of light the torn coat and leather was replaced with White Mage robes, they billowed around her before settling.

“It’s ok.” Light growled. “It’ll be ok.”

Aymeric coughed, blood began to seep from his lips. Light exclaimed once more, her hands searching his face, palming him with desperation. Estinien moved around, ready to try and lift Aymeric. He felt something punch him in the gut, staggering back he realised Vul had violently thrown her arm out in a knee jerk reaction, batting him perfectly away with sudden force.

“No!” She wailed. “Estinien get away.” She was hysterical. It was that dark look from before that was aimed only at him. He didn’t attempt any sarcastic quips, instead stood up and stepped backwards briskly.

He felt it before he saw it, once again the aether pooled around him, magnetised towards her. Thick, pulsating pressure that seemed to extrude from her. She tossed her staff aside, clapped her hands together and then placed them on the ground in front of Aymeric. Estinien saw Aymeric’s hand fly up, gripping her arm tightly.

“What are you doing?” He rasped, “Your aether-”

Green light spread like a halo around him in a solid ring. Estinien was tall enough to see as his companion’s wound began to slowly recede, blood beginning to dry. Slowly, he noticed her began to curl forward, straining to pour her all into the spell.

Estinien hummed roughly, trying to ignore his fatigue and the powerful pull of magicks in front of him. But in that moment he realised, she was not a Vul. Maybe still to him... however-

He did not know how she felt about Aymeric but her actions spoke volumes in place of her need to define anything with words to him.

“What in seven hells are you doing!?” A formal, squeaky voice punctuated the air, “Estinien! Are you ok? We must stop her!”

The fast approaching footsteps indicated to Estinien that Alphinaud had finally found them. As he ran past Estinien, the dragoon threw his arm out swiftly and grabbed the young elezen by the scruff of his collar. He stumbled, falling back to his side.

“Leave her be boy.” He growled.

“But her aether, she is pouring too much into that spell!” Alphinaud cried, struggling against Estinien’s tight grip. “Please, we have to stop her! I’ve been told this can happen. She’s going to overheal and cause serious damage to herself!”

“You speak truths boy?”

Alphinaud nodded fervently and Estinien let him go. He paced forward, stretching his arms out, ready to grab her by the shoulders.

Truly, she was as a dimwitted fool, too stubborn and blinded by adoration to take care of herself.

Absolute halfwit.

\---

_You idiot. I should have protected you._

_Don’t you die on me. Don’t you dare. No more. No more._

_Faded, a voice faintly spoke through the searing heat of white magick as aether drowned out everything but her heavy breathing, her pounding heart._

_“I’ll be ok. I’m-” his voice wheezed._

_She knew this sign. She had heard it before. The loss of blood, the confidence they’ll be ok._

_Her panicked reaction. She had to help. Fix it. Fix him._

_Fear, cold, draining, gripping her heart._

_Her sobs, stammered, stuttering, spluttering from her._

_How many people had her lineage saved?_

_One more. Give it your all._

_It had been a small fragile while since the Warrior of Light had given it everything, afterall._

_Bend to your name. Embrace the title you try to take respite from._

_Her real name, words low, glossy, silken against her ear in panted gasps._

_His hand, gripping her arm. Fingers searching to pull her from her bewitched state._

_“The wound, it is gone.”_

_No. More. Heal more._

_“I’m ok. Truly. I am. Please, you can stop.”_

_Keep going._

_Cold, draining, worse than the pond. Seeping through her skin, curling through her very core. She had reached the bottom of her well. The last drop of aether clinging onto her._

_Sleeves of her robes, deep reds mingling against pure white, stained, the metallic smell rising to meet her nose. It made her sick with anxiety._

_She was delirious, drunk with power, hysterical from almost losing someone she- he was something to her. Something worth keeping._

_Something she wanted._

_Hands found her face, she was blind. Lost in a trance. Green light kept surging._

_Her given name said again, more fevered, urgent._

_“Please. Stop. Please!”_

_That last drop, with a flourish, she spilled all her being into the spell._

_She felt numb. Nothing. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, slowing, loud, a drumbeat finding the end of its song._

_A pair of hands on her shoulders, thick, metal. A growl, a roar trying to pry her away but she was unmovable._

_“You fool, you’re going too far!”_

_Slowing._

_She was drained. Beyond fatigue._

_Her eyes couldn’t focus._

_The green light faded._

_Everything was blurring, the corners of her vision a vignette of darkness, creeping in._

_She slumped forwards, hair pillowing around her._

_Soft cushioning, a body below her, healed._

_Loud, shouting, muffled from behind. Unfamiliar, no, young, terrified. Alphinaud._

_Pressure, gauntleted arms gripping her tightly._

_Life, energy, virtue, returned to the man who was now repeating her name over and over in her ear in deep, feverish tones._

_Sense, fading from her mind._

_Awareness-_

_Then nothing._

\---

When was the last time she slept so soundly?

_“Welcome to Falcon’s Nest, Ser Aymeric, it has been a while since we had dragons pass by- ah, is that the Warrior of Light? Pray, is she well?”_

_“Yes, do not fear, she is simply resting.”_

Voices, swimming gently through her mind.

Weakly, Light opened her eyes carefully, small slits, peering. Moonlight met her eyes, almost too bright. Fresh cool air whirled around her. The beating of wings slowly came to her ears as her circle of awareness spread from her senses.

She stirred, realising she was unable to move for she was tightly swaddled in various layers of fleeces and cloaks. She groaned, her body ached everywhere, tiring, fatigued. The taste of herbs filled her mouth. She licked her chapped lips, remnants of various heavy potions lingered on the edges of her tongue.

“You are awake.” Came a soft, low voice, strained.

Her head swayed, her focus came to and looking up she realised the surface she rested upon was leathery, scaled. Ahead of her the long slender neck of a dragon swayed, directing its agile body as it swayed on the ground of the battlements they were within.

She realised she was leaning against someone. Looking down one long gauntleted arm, black and gold embellished, was holding her firmly in place as she was cocooned.

Light craned her neck, looking up to her captor.

Illuminated by fading starlight, a pair of beautiful azure eyes stared warmly back down at her, his full lips pulled into a relieved smile.

She said his name quietly, almost a whisper. She felt him press his face into her hair. The point of his nose trailed down to the side of her head.

“How-” she croaked, her throat dry, her voice cracked and brittle.

“The Moogles.” Aymeric replied gently, “They requested a favour from Hrvaeslgr’s brood, after tending to you.”

Light sighed, everything came back to her. His shuddering body, that deep wound, all the blood, pouring every last ilm of her aether into him. Estinien furious. Alphinaud screaming.

“I appear. To have gone too far once again.” She said carefully, feeling Aymeric judder against her as he chuckled quietly.

“Yes, it was quite a fright.” Though he sounded humorous, his grip around her waist tightened and he shook slightly, “Though if I can speak with candour, I would be eternally grateful if you could perhaps avoid doing that _again _.”

“I’ll try. Stubborness is a hard ailment to cure, only if you return the favour, perhaps not throw yourself in front of attacks for my sake.” She replied, laughing faintly. Aymeric shifted, the shell of her ear felt his warm breath against it. His voice was deep, dark, pleading.

“You truly scared me, using all your aether like that,” he said, saying her given name, “I did not know what to do. To feel helpless, to see you like that again-” He paused, swallowing.

She turned, realised his face was close to her cheek and she froze, staring straight ahead towards the towers of Falcons Nest.

She wanted to counter argue, to express that he frightened her just as much. That she had not been so terrified since seeing her Scion’s in their dreamless slumber, not knowing what happened to them, that their souls had been whisked away from their very mortal bodies.

All this time, Aymeric worried about her but what of how she felt for him?

The quick patter of feet broke her from her thoughts, a head of white hair bobbed into view, as the wyrm they were on tilted to the side, presenting Light and Aymeric to a flustered panicked Alphinaud.

“How are you feeling? Are you ok? Oh gods we were glad the Moogles came to us, their potions were powerful, did you sleep ok? Why did you do that!? Were you _aware _of the repercussions? Do you _want _to scare us that much every time? Twelve forsake me, I didn’t know you would _make _it-”

The clinking of Dragoon armour, the swift lift of an arm, grabbing the young man by the collar, lifting him up like a misbehaved kitten by its mother.

“Too many questions, boy. Let the woman breathe.” He grunted, dropping him into a dishevelled pile on the ground.

Estinien bowed, a faint hint of a smile on his face, “How do you fare, Aymeric, My lady?”

“I am fine, the ride smooth and largely uninterrupted.” He replied. She felt a hand on the small of her back, “I think we are ready to make our way back to Ishgard now, my lady are you able to make the final trek?”

She nodded quietly.

In one agile movement, she slipped from the layers of blankets, jumping down onto the ground next to Estinien and Alphinaud, who muttered when he noticed she swayed slightly on the spot from lightheadedness.

Alphinaud looked up at her, his lips pursed tightly, clearly ready to burst. As Aymeric slid from the dragon's wing to join their side, the young elezen burst out.

“You could have _died _.” His voice strained as he stared at her.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, then gently ruffled the top of his head.

“And yet, I didn’t.” She smiled. “Hydaelyn isn’t done with me quite yet.”

Light glanced up at Aymeric, searching his face. She felt sick.

_He _could have died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thanks for reading and thank you for all the comments! I'm really glad you are all enjoying this! 
> 
> Going to be going back to more semi-one shot style chapters after all this excitement!


	17. The Binding of Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ If only I could give more to Aymeric. She thought._
> 
> _She had let him in._
> 
> _He had stayed._
> 
> _And with open arms he welcomed her into his own too. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabble short chapter but I always feel comfy slipping back into pensive moments, detailed environments and that snug feeling of a heavy winter storm approaching...
> 
> __________________________________

“_Okay_.” She said to herself out loud, “You have _really_ over exerted yourself this time.”

The Warrior of Light flexed her hand, staring at it. It quivered, shaking weakly. Her whole body still ached with fatigue. She tried to pull on her aether, create a simple spell, _anything_... but nothing came.

Placing her head into her hand she leaned into it, rubbing her forehead with ink stained fingers, ignoring the smell of ash as another candle burned out next to her at her desk.

She traced the outline of her face, rubbing under her eyes as she yawned heavily.

Before her, the next syllabus she was to teach once the mid term break was over, was splayed across her desk, papers, books and parchments all filled with notes heavily scrawled.

It had been several days of solitude since they had all arrived back in Ishgard.

Several days since she exhausted her aether, saved Aymeric and found Estinien.

Light had requested to her housestaff that she wished to be undisturbed for the next while over the mid term break, she needed time to herself. Time to recover. To think.

Not even Haurchefant dared venture to her house, for once respecting her space. Instead, the largest bountiful basket of various home cooked foods, meats, jarred goods and delicious assortment of treats had arrived at her door one day, accompanied by a long well written note crooning about her well being that made her chuckle.

Snow petered out against the windows of her study as she stood up, picking the candleholder up with intent of replenishing it. The smell of old leather and stale parchment filled the air, wax mingling with the earthy charred scents of the dying fire. The dim light of day waned against piles of tomes, the early evening rising to meet its duty.

A chill fell over her, shivering as she shuffled under the heavy blanket draped over her form. Fresh cashmere and fleece rubbed against her soft skin, nimble fingers pulling the blanket tighter around her.

She had tried to tire herself mentally, bury herself in her work. Yet her mind would find itself wandering back to Aymeric more often than necessary.

How he made her feel, how she was a coward to not relent fully to her own feelings for fear of it all going wrong.

Gently she trudged through the house, through archways of doors and down towards the kitchen and pantry to retrieve some candles.

Soft glows of lanterns and lit fires took the harsh edges off the oncoming evening around her cosy abode. Thick worn rugs met her feet with welcome textures through her socks as she padded around the kitchen, taking small bites, grazing off various foodstuffs that had littered counters. Chewing through a mouthful of tiffin cake she ducked into the pantry, searching for the candles.

And then, as she fumbled in the dark, craning to reach the top shelf for the candles, Light thought of Aymeric again.

_Always when you’re doing a menial task_, she thought to herself, sighing heavily. “So to begin this second half of the semester, I’ll be aiming to teach you, my beloved fourth year class, about Azys Lla, long lost Allagan ruins of technology, a rich tapestry of history that resides within it’s dangerous terrain overrun with aberrations of experiments….”

She started to lecture out loudly to herself, hoping to disperse thoughts of the tall elezen, those raven locks, that scent, those blue eyes glittering with kindness, care…

Flicking her finger at the candle she attempted to light it with aether. Still, nothing.

Light grumbled, chewing her lip in frustration.

Leaning the candle into the fireplace to light it she placed it in the holder, still reciting her lecture out loud, pushing thoughts aside with great force.

_Why was she fighting it?_

She thought of when she couldn’t love someone who had admitted it to her, couldn’t force herself to give something to someone who deserved it. The threads weren’t there, an emotion her heart didn’t wish to grasp.

She was scared, truly a coward to live in fear that it would happen again. When every situation was different.

_But._

_She let him in_

_She let him in willingly._

_And he stayed._

-”They discovered ancient Allagan technology that-” she continued reciting, pacing back upstairs from the kitchen, cold winding stone steps that whistled from loose slabs of rock that caught the wind from outside.

Light paused, her hand gripped the stone wall, the flicker of the candle’s flame caught her eye. The professor ran her fingers over the rigid gravelly edges cool of stone, grounding herself, revising words from her mind to distract.

“Unbeknownst however, was the true intent that resided within the walls of this ancient structure-”

_ Aymeric de Borel, the man who respected her, who understood she needed time to realise her own truths of how she felt about him. It was unspoken truths, truths that lingered beneath the weight of fear, the causality of previous experiences that had set up this barrier around herself. _

_ Why did she torture herself like this? _

_ When it was clear as day how he felt about her.  _

_ Seeing him lying there, blood everywhere.  _

It terrified her. It had triggered a desperate hysteria within her at the time, a need for him to be ok. As if part of her would die if he did too.

She nearly dropped the candle as there was a sudden brisk knocking that echoed through the hallway and catching her ears as she jumped. Sliding the holder into an alcove in the stairwell she hurried towards the door.

The hints of the oncoming storm that was finally arriving to Ishgard flurried through the door as she opened it, gasping at the sight before her.

A dozen of her students, of varying years and classes she taught were huddled around the small porch, wrapped in cloaks and sheltered from the wind. She went red, pulling the blanket around herself more thoroughly. She had been wearing the same baggy jumper for several days now, her hair was unkempt pulled up into a large clip due to the loss of the handkerchief and her face had the remaining crumbs of tiffin on it, which she hastily brushed away, smiling awkwardly.

“Professor Light!” chimed the elezen girl who stood at the front, bowing, “I hope this is not too awkward a time to intrude-”

“No not at all Eledreal-Anne,” Light said, clearing her throat proper so she could speak in kind tones, “Pray, do come in all of you.”

Fiercely, they shook their heads.

“We fear we’ll be caught in the storm if we mingle too long,” said another student, a tall Miqo'te at the back of the group, “We heard of your endeavours to bring back Ser Wyrmblood and how you saved Professor de Borel from death!” He went red, staring at the ground.

Light laughed quietly, “‘Tis not as exciting as you may imagine, just another venture for the Warrior of Light.”

In her mind, she traced back wondering who it was that was quick to speak. She realised perhaps Alphinaud’s retelling to Alisae, who then spoke to Eledreal-Anne whom she knew was a close friend, must have resulted in gossip spreading…

“We weren’t here for that,” said Eledreal-Anne, “We just wished to see you were ok and to bring you this-”

The crowd shuffled, a large basket was brought forward. Lifting the cloth lid and various layers of grease paper. They tilted it towards her.

Underneath was a large cake, beautifully decorated. She immediately clocked it was green tea. It was that familiar mossy green colour, adorned with neat, loopy white icing.

_Get well soon, Professor Warrior of Light!_

Her hand came up to her mouth in shock. Perhaps it was the exhaustion but tears pricked her eyes.

“You all, didn’t have to-” she said through her hand, caging her emotion.

“And- and we made this too-” another student chimed in, stepping forward.

They were holding a large wreath, beautiful white flowers adorned it, woven through with gold thread, mixed with the earthy greens of leaves. It was beautiful, intricate.

“It’s Ishgardian tradition, this wreath means protection.”

And there it was, her heart welling up.

Fluctuating, as if feelings of care were a form of aether in itself. Her sinuses suddenly felt swollen, a deep heat resonated through her face and she tried to blink heavily, quickly bringing a hand up to wipe away a stray tea.

“You are too kind.” She said, voice stifled by the sudden clamminess in her throat.

“Well, you look after us!” stammered a third year Hyur exclaimed, his face hot with embarrassment, “You care about us so of course we care about you!”

“You managed to find Ser Wyrmblood, even though he’s a bit of a grumpy guy sometimes, we’re glad he came back!” One student said.

“You almost gave your life to save Professor Aymeric.” A small Au Ra student squeaked, “We appreciate everything you do, you’re so brave and fearless!”

_Brave and fearless_.

_If only I could give more to Aymeric_. She thought.

_She had let him in._

_He had stayed._

_And with open arms he welcomed her into his own too._

Now fully gone, her mask, the wall, the mental block of fear she had began to shift. As if once a gleaming tower of marble, of cracked porcelain... it had now turned to sand, sifting through her, letting her walk forward.

He had done so much for her since they first met. So much she wanted to return.

The taut strings once a trap had frayed, beautifully and delicately unfurling from around her heart.

Those threads, she grabbed them in her mind’s eye.

Strings pulling her towards _him_.

The gravity of the truth, the realisation that dawned over her pulled her forward, strings caressing between her fingers as she fell forwards into the unknown, free and blissful.

At peace with her resolve.

She knew she wanted to give more to him.

And by the Twelve she _would_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you're enjoying it!


	18. Snowlit and Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something short and _very sweet. A little something to put in your coffee or tea... :)_
> 
> _________________________________________________

The beginning of the snowstorm lapped against the windows of Borel Manor, windows thick with a layer of ice and snow.

It was past midnight, a hush had fell over Ishgard as fulms of snow dampened the gentle whispers of the wind, encasing The Pillars in a cocoon of night time hibernation, everyone encased within their own homes to hide comfortably from the storm.

Tucked into one of the smaller rooms, a fire crackled boldly, the dim light of the flames licked every surface with a soothing light. In an armchair by the window, wrapped in an ornate luxurious housecoat was Aymeric. Piles of papers neatly stacked sat on several side tables around him and upon the coffee table near the couch, which was otherwise occupied by a large sleeping creature.  
Lying face down, limbs dangling in a tangle over one side of the couch, was Estinien. He grunted and shuffled slightly. On his back, curled into a ball of white, blending into his silvery hair was Aymeric’s old cat, Frostfire. So aptly named by Estinien when they were but fledgling knights and Estinien spent more than enough time at the manor. The cat made a small disgruntled noise just as similar to Estinien as they both settled back into their deep slumber.

_One sleeping creature was enough,_ Aymeric mused, peering over his reading glasses at them.

Estinien had sought refuge through the storm at Aymeric’s, claiming his own abode was nearly not as comfortable to brace himself through the change in weather. Aymeric could see through his guise, and figured for once (or twice) in the Dragoon’s life he just wished the comfortably enjoy his company once again.

Aymeric had more than enough work to keep himself busy. New syllabuses to work on, several reports for Edmont on advice for the High Houses, a few research proposal papers that the senior students had requested he checks over the break and a large pile of books that he wished to peruse, further extending his knowledge for his classes next semester.

He murmured sentences quietly to himself, deft fingers clutching a quill skimmed over scrawls of handwriting against parchment, marking errors and changes required in the essays he was marking.

He worked quietly, his mind finally finding peace within the confines of work.

Time ticked by. Estinien still growled softly in his sleep, face pressed roughly against the pillows of the couch, Frostfire having splayed out against the crook of his neck, tangled within his hair.

As the fire dimmed, Aymeric rubbed his eyes blearily, realising he needed to stoke the fire if he wished to keep reading his work.

Tensing his body, making a point of readying himself to arise from his deep state having unmoved for hours, there was the faintest of knocking from the front door. It was quiet, muffled and if there had been any noise other than the fireplace slowly petering out its light crackling flames, the elezen would have missed it completely.

He paused, wondering if it were a trick of the mind.

But there it was again, the gentle knocking, a small feeble thudding noise.

He rose mutely from his chair, forgetting to put house slippers on as he briskly yet with great care not to wake Estinien, bounded on tiptoes through the door and down the vast hallway.

_Who would be calling at this hour? Surely it must be urgent?_ Aymeric noted. His housestaff had all gone home and he was full glad they had not rang the bell at risk of creating too much noise in the silent manor.

Stepping through the archway and down the single step to the entrance hall he unlatched bolts and slid the locks open. Carefully he opened the door by a few ilms to peer out, snow stacked against the outside of the door began to crumble, spilling through the gap.

His eyes widened.

Black velvet cloaks pulled tightly, a hood pulled back, golden eyes blinking through the dimly lit street, moonlight glows from the surrounding snow illuminating her face.

It was Light.

He swung the door open fully, ignoring the snow. His socked feet stung from cold but he didn’t care. He quite simply didn’t care at all.

“My lady.” He rumbled, clearing his throat having not spoken in hours, “Is aught amiss?” A lump had formed in his throat. She didn’t look distressed as she shook her head. She looked fierce but with a hint of resolve, glistening in her eyes as she stared at him.

He noted her confidence had come back, her calculating, contemplative expression wore a thin smile, lopsided yet determined. It reminded him of when they first met in that alleyway, the way she studied him carefully, though at the time he was swaying heavily and lost in a cloud of ale that drowned his mind.

Without hesitation, she began to speak.

“Do you remember what you said whilst you were inebriated during our ‘first’ unofficial meeting?”

He made a small hum, looking past her to remember. As his mind idled, she answered the question for him.

“You said you prayed that I would think highly of you.”

“Ah yes, I was quite under the spell of alcohol then.” Aymeric said, shuffling his feet, flat against the cold stone steps, caked in melting snow, “But it does ring true of how I feel, I do wish I have had made a fair impression on you since that night…”

Light took a step towards him, biting her lip, her eyes creasing kindly.

“Aymeric…” his name, spoken with such softness it was barely above an audible whisper. He blinked, eyes coming back to meet hers.

“I do think highly of you. Beyond highly. Beyond the heavens and Halone, no the full Twelve, watching over us. I think you a man that clearly plagues my thoughts when I wish to work in peace. A gentleman after my own heart who pursues my best interests and gives much more so selflessly, whilst not receiving nearly enough of what he deserves in return…”

He felt his stomach soar. This unexpected confession wound its way around him, reeling him in, tightening around his heart in a crescendo of euphoric joy. He breathed, mouthing soundlessly, his hand snaked up to his neck, toying with ruffles of his own hair.

“I realise I do not know where I’m going with this. I just know that though you worry so much about me, I must have you know I worry about you. I care about you. You are the embodiment of what I wish to protect in this world. To hold onto. And I feel that I have not expressed what sentiments I carry for you enough, so if you may… permit me... then…”

She tugged the fur of his housecoat with her left hand, her right coming up to cup the clean cut edges of his jawline.

Her hand felt cool, smooth, sending a sudden jolt to his chest as she pulled him down towards her.

Those golden eyes, waning, the moon in eclipse as her eyes shut.

Half lidded, his own eyes bobbed, looking down, watching as in one swift moment as she tilted her chin up, meeting his lips with hers.

They pressed gently, soft, smooth, the perfectly curved bow of her upper lip brushing against his before applying more pressure. His chest leapt, twisting upwards, catching in his throat as the world stopped around him. Blood rushed to his ears, pounding. He leaned into the kiss, one long lingering kiss. One long lingering moment. One long lingering feeling. His arms lay abandoned at his sides. He could smell her, that clean spring smell mingling with his own.

By the Twelve, Halone, forsworn by the Fury herself. Such a feeling, he thought.

Cold filled the gap between their faces as he watched through half lidded eyes her own open slowly again, leaning back. He remembered to breathe, a small exhale, a small noise, left his lips as they parted. Small flecks of snow caught on her eyelashes, like gems, dewy and sparkling around her eyes.

The heat in his face had peaked, most likely matching the colour of her own. She was blushing madly, staring at him with such gentleness he feared if she kissed him again he would simply melt into the snow around him, a being of aether once tethered to his mortal body, now freed by her confession, her act of intimacy.

A declaration of how she felt now marked permanently upon his lips.

For once words could not come to him.

He was giddy, lightheaded, more drunk than he ever felt from that one, single kiss.

His heart thrashed, thundered, drummed to a beat of silence between them.

He brought up his hands, clasping her face, running a thumb over her jawline. Tenderly his forehead met hers and he smiled.

They stood like that for a few moments more, basking in the afterglow of such a small moment, something so tender and careful yet spoke volumes.

A sudden swirl of harsh wind clipped at them, a reminder of the storm beginning its slow chorus.

“I should go…” she said quietly, a hint of reluctance in her voice, “Else I shall get caught in this winter storm.”

He ran his thumb over her cheek, eyes half lidded, “Would that be such a bad thing?”  
She breathed against him, opening her mouth to reply when-

“Aymeric!” Barked a course voice, bellowing across the manor, “Who lingers at the door at such an ungodly hour, come, turn them away you idiot, you’re letting the cold in!”

Immediately Light pulled away, slipped from his gasp, a wry smile tugged at the edges of the lips that were once so beautifully planted upon his.

“Ah yes.” He sighed, blinking, snapping out from his romantic stupor, “Estinien is here as well.”

“Then I shall not hold you back from your time with him any longer.” She was red, looked just as dazed as he felt. He reached out and took her hand.

“Until next time.” He said softly, his voice low and rumbled against the back of her hand as he kissed it.

“Until next time.” She said. Stepping back lightly, sliding back into the several fulms of snow, sinking into the fresh powdered layer that had appeared.

“Goodnight Aymeric,” she beamed. A twirl of her cloak and she waded off into the night, the light mist of snow fading her from view abruptly among dimly lit lamps and shadowy buildings.

He lingered for a moment longer, then slowly slinked backwards from the porch into the light and warmth of the manor.

Aymeric closed the door, his hand remained on the handle.

Frostfire, a flurry of white fur between his legs meowed intensely, pawing at the door and whining, wanting his owner to open the door so the feline could pursue the woman down the street.

“I know,” Aymeric sighed, staring down at him. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. Finally! :D


	19. Aethered and Tethered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She was so lost in her work that she did not realise the early morning had quickly slipped into lunchtime. Without regard to her physical needs, she did not realise she was hungry until her stomach gurgled. Looking up she paused from her work, there it was, that lurch again, this time a long groaning noise of hunger warbled from her gut. She placed a hand against it, looking down, blushing madly. She had forgotten to bring any sustenance for the day._
> 
> _“Well, someone appears to be in need of food.” Came a low, beautifully toned voice._
> 
> __________________________________________________________________________

She stood at the entrance of the University, staring upwards. Blankets of snow jutted out in thick layers across the parapets of the building. A chill air swirled around her, the aftermath of the storm waning after several days of intense snow. The buildings of Ishgard looked like perfectly iced cakes, thick, trapped under the remains of the snowstorm.

Dusting off snow from her boots she began to weave her way through corridors, pacing down empty hallways, past classrooms and theatres and offices, all empty and hidden in darkness.

Classes were due to start back on the morrow, and Light had several books she wished to put in her office in preparation for the new half of the term.

Closing the door, having succeeded in dropping the large pile upon her desk, she sighed. Bringing her fingers to her lips, she lightly traced where she had kissed Aymeric. Her insides felt mellow, dreamy, lost in a swirl of elegantly delightful emotions. Though her aether had not fully restored her abilities, she still felt full, her heart rolling from side to side in a gentle soothing rhythm.

With no desire to return to her home, for which she was beginning to feel suffocated in due to the storm, Light decided to indulge herself a visit to one of her favourite spots within the building.

It was calming, the lack of bustling of students and staff was comforting. A soft, serene natural light pooled through windows, grey muted shadows cast across dusty statues and benches. The only noise was her boots, clicking gently against the marbled flooring as she ascended a stairwell which broke out into a large hall. Giant suits of armour lined the edges, a grand staircase at the other end led upwards towards the East Tower, an area which housed Urianger’s office and most importantly, one of her favourite rooftop gardens.

Gradually the roomy areas grew smaller and as Light carefully climbed a small stairwell, she looked out of the narrow windows to glance across the rooftops of the University.

The sky was neutral, a thin layer of clouds simmered, small breaks letting sunlight through. Glancing down, something, no, someone caught her eye.

In the distance, poised against a rooftop, was Estinien.

Though he were far away, Light could still make out his snowy hair, pulled back into a loose ponytail. He stood straight, wiping a sleeve across his head, a hammer in hand. Loose tiles neatly stacked in a pile sat next to him. The dragoon crouched down, pulling away damaged slates and discarding them, using the hammer to nudge new ones into their place.

He was fixing the roof they had damaged.

Perhaps it was punishment, perhaps it was from his own goodwill, Light did not know, but the sight of him labouring away made her smile. He meant well, truly he did.

Estinien paused, mid tap… and as if he sensed her presence he looked with great accuracy in her direction, icy blue eyes narrowed. She quickly ducked away from the window, laughing softly.

The rooftop garden was often used by the alchemist students who wished to study potions and the use of natural ingredients into unusual concoctions. Because of that, a veil of magicks lingered over the area, creating a special environment for these rare plants to flourish.

A colourful plethora of flora greeted her as she stepped out onto the large area. Bright flowers and wisps of luscious green fawned around Light as she made her way through the area, stepping under an archway to sit upon a bench that also looked over a tall balcony, dipping down far below to reveal the rooftops of the University and beyond that, the rest of Ishgard.

She tilted her head back, sighing in bliss. This was her place of tranquility. If ever she had the need to escape for a bit, this was her place. The air was cool, refreshing. The smoky air of fireplaces, bars and markets did not exist up here.

Placing her hand on either side of the stone bench she let exposed fingers trace circles against the stone, a way of fidgeting calmly. The grainy feeling lingered on her fingertips, sending her into a trance as she slipped into quiet contemplation.

After a while of remaining still, she slipped a book from her satchel, unfolding the bookmark tucked within her pages and bringing out a pencil, the intent of marking notes upon the pages she had read.

She was so lost in her work that she did not realise the early morning had quickly slipped into lunchtime. Without regard to her physical needs, she did not realise she was hungry until her stomach gurgled. Looking up she paused from her work, there it was, that lurch again, this time a long groaning noise of hunger warbled from her gut. She placed a hand against it, looking down, blushing madly. She had forgotten to bring any sustenance for the day.

“Well, someone appears to be in need of food...” came a low, beautifully toned voice.  
Her head craned quickly round to see Aymeric walking towards her, a long sweeping blue cloak covered the casual attire he wore underneath, a black overcoat with a deep blue jumper and black trousers. Beautiful tanned boots swept up his legs, remnants of snow melting gently against the leather. She held her breath, he had a way of looking unexpectedly breathtaking. Beads of snow dewed over his hair, soft and black like a nest of sleek feathers. He was carrying a small basket, a kind smile etched across his sharp chiselled face, blue eyes gleaming with a look she felt was only reserved for her.

Her heart stuttered as he quietly and sleekly slipped onto the stone bench next to her, gazing across the view of the garden in front of her. He placed the basket down in front of them and folded his hands onto his lap, tilting his head to observe her.

The whole time, Light’s mind had grown hazy. The knowledge she had retained from her reading immediately swept to her side as her eyes gently followed the line of his full lips, those incredible lips she had only just kissed days prior. A deep heat seeped across her face as she opened her mouth to speak, gently puffs of warm air evaporating like wisps of cloud in front of her. She was rendered breathless.

“How did, how did you find me?” She quizzed, closing the book and flattening her hand across it onto her lap.

Aymeric gave her a small chuckle, eyes lowered slightly as he leaned closer. “Though you wished to wander alone, an observer spotted you from afar.”

It clicked in her mind.

“Ah, Estinien,” she said, smirking slightly, “He did see me then.”

“I’m afraid he did, though it worked grandly in my favour.” Aymeric crooned, lifting the blanket of the basket to reveal various foodstuffs, “A good opportunity for us to partake in lunch together, no?”

\---

The rest of the afternoon felt like a serene dream to her. They sat, laughing, talking, as beautiful savoury pastries, cheeses and meats and a flask of mulled wine were shared. The warmth and spice of the drink wove its way through her body, a perfect combatant for the Coerthas winter.

They sat in contemplative silence for a bit, enjoying their food, when Aymeric suddenly turned on the spot to face Light, remembering something. He said her given name, gently, rolling, to garner her attention.

“Ah, I uh.. have… something I wish to give to you in this current moment. Pray tell me, how is your aether?”

She paused thoughtfully, then bringing a hand up she snapped her fingers at the attempt to conjure a small flame.

The smallest of sparks appeared before sputtering out. She frowned, feeling her aether fall weakly away from her.

“I am still down and out I am afraid.” She said solemnly, staring at her palms.

“Here,” Aymeric said, lifting his hand towards her chest. Startled, she recoiled slightly and he jerked his hand back, realising.

“Ah! forgive me, I mean, with your permission can I… Urianger taught me how to…” he took her hand instead, placing it against his chest as she went red, “He taught me how to transfer aether.”

Light’s breath hitched in her throat.

“That’s… that’s an extremely intimate spell!” She gasped, her hand snaking back. Wide blue eyes watched her carefully. He nervously reached for his neck. She studied his humbling expression with interest, heart thumping.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“Yes. My lady, gods yes. If you shall permit me. You saved my life, I feel it is the least one, no, I could do.” His face was kind, genuine adoration flecked across his features. Her heart twirled, feeling her face tingle with the heat of his stare.

Tentatively she leaned towards him, letting him lift his hand. It hovered near the top of her chest, an ilm away from the fabric of her top. Aymeric closed his eyes, scrunching his face in concentration.

A faint glow emanated as aether began to stem from his hand, enveloping the top of her chest. A cool, unusual feeling seeped through her, spreading from her centre and outwards. The feeling of connection with her magicks grew stronger slightly, a certain strength began to emanate, renew itself within every fibre of her being.

The glowing stopped and Light watched as he pulled his hand away. She took it quickly, entwining her fingers with his. Aymeric’s eyes slowly fell open, staring at their hands together.

It felt unusual, as if her body knew it was a different type of aether mingling with hers. It felt… _nice_. Eventually the feeling tapered out, her hands remained entangled with his as they spent a few moments drinking in the presence of each other.

To share aether like that, she thought, it was intense, a bond that one would not give away so easily. Her stomach clenched at the level of intimacy he had given her, it was almost…

A prickling heat simmered in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, trying to hold back tears, “This is too much.”

He smiled, “I would do anything for you.”

No one, in her entire life, had offered to give up portion of their aether so easily to her… if at all.

\---

The finale to the fine picnic was a small box, macaroons carefully nestled amongst layers of tissue paper. Light gasped as he revealed them, beautiful pastel colours like delicate flowers with hints of a decadent filling peeking from its edges.

“Fresh from this morning.” Aymeric said, “I had decided to do some culinary baking t0 distract myself when Estinien came to tell me where you were.” He smiled keenly, holding the box further towards her as she plucked a rose coloured treat from the box, taking a small bite.

A crisp thin outer gently cracked against her teeth as her mouth sank into the chewy inner, the cool filling slid cloyingly over her tongue. The flavours were mind blowing, sweet, creamy, the perfect balance of almond flavour dusted along her taste buds. She made a small noise as her eyes closed. She could hear Aymeric laugh slightly, satisfied by her response.

Then, her eyes snapped open.

“Distracted yourself? From what?” She questioned, taking a sip of the mulled wine as she stuffed the rest of the macaroon hastily into her mouth, greedily picking another from the box at the insistence of Aymeric still holding them out to her.

He flushed, the tips of his ears bloomed a deep red as his eyes looked at her, then hastily away, then back, scattered thoughts could be seen crossing his mind as she searched his face.

“Well, I could not stop reminiscing… when you were at my door in the late of night…” his voice trailed off, he placed the box down nervously and toyed with the fabric of his cloak. “It felt like a dream I wished not to forget, and so, I did not. It has lingered in my mind for days now.”

Light placed the goblet down, looking at him with her lips parted. She could feel her chest tense up, squeezing what little oxygen remained within her out. Short controlled breathes took over.

“I… I’m very glad,” she said, then flailed, “I mean that you enjoyed it, not that it plagued your mind or anything or that-” her hands flew up, waving them frantically as if to correct her words.

The elezen smiled. He leaned closer, towering over her even when he was sitting, “Are you truly glad?” he said, voice low as his head slowly came down, those blue eyes peering through thick black eyelashes.

“I meant everything I said that night,” Light mumbled, “I would very much like it if you’d… if you wish to… if you’ll have me… to court.” She said meekly, ringing her hands. Aymeric chuckled, low, silky and rumbling as he leaned towards her, taking her shaking hands.

Without hesitation his face had lowered close to hers.

“Wish to have you? I _want_ to… I _want_ you.” He breathed in the softest growl, using his nose to trail up her face, his lips brushing ever so lightly against hers. Her eyes lowered, looking at him, tracing every detail of his divine face. His eyes were searching hers, looking left to right with such a sultry look she thought she would simply stop breathing if she forgot to remind herself to. She could feel him, his breath, the closeness, the tightness of her chest, yearning, wanting him. The smell of him, intoxicating, alluring, drawing her in.

Then, as she tilted her chin up, he took her lips.

Nothing but a soft inhale filled the air as they sank into each other. It started gentle, the feeling of plush skin against each other, moving, savouring, becoming familiar with each other. It was soft, beautiful, a moment entwined with such fragility that she dared not move too much at the risk of shattering this reverent dream.

Carefully, long fingers came up to cup her face, Aymeric’s thumb gently grazing her skin as he deepened the kiss. Like a sensual dance they swayed their heads together, tilting, kissing. Lips parted and she accepted him, letting their tongues slide together and keenly explore each others mouths.

She found herself pushing a little more upwards and he responded, applying more pressure. Then, without warning she found Aymeric feverishly dipping his head more into hers, intensifying the kiss. With subtlety it become quicker, bigger movements, swollen lips grazing with fervour. He made the slightest sound, the smallest of moans before he softly pulled away, his face flush with embarrassment.

“F- forgive me-” Aymeric breathed, his hand still upon Light’s face, his thumb tracing her jawline in a repeated motion as if seeking reassurance, “I appear to have been a little too enthused there…”

Light, disorientated, giddy and lightheaded, shook her head slightly, giggling.

“There can never be too much enjoyment in these things.” She said, giving him a wild smirk. She felt pressure as he leaned in again, pressing his forehead against hers, eyes searching once again.

“I am full glad.” He said, “As I wish to enjoy every moment with you.”

Light’s heart soared.

All she could do was grin broadly, eyes crinkling as she kissed him again and again… and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, a proper kiss!
> 
> Also! I’ve posted a new fic that ties in that is going to be just one shots and drabbles from Haurchefant’s POV! Check it out, I put that fic under a series tag too :)


	20. Professor Greystone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a standalone fic I posted but I've decided to combine it in here! A little backstory on how Haurchefant and the WoL's history began. 
> 
> __________________________

Professor Haurchefant Greystone sat in his office, hot chocolate in hand, feet up on his desk as he idled lazily, reclining into the plush armchair as he sighed blissfully. Silvery hair tickled his ears as he took a long deep sip of the decadent drink, letting the sweet notes of thick chocolate swirl in his mouth, velvety, comforting.

In front of him sat a box of the finest cakes he had tasted, baked especially for him. A beautiful marigold yellow ribbon was carefully tied around the handles that snaked upwards, like two swan necks curled around each other.

They were cakes to welcome the newest staff member to join the University.

The Warrior of Light, newly acquired to be a professor.

He clenched and unclenched his stomach, the anticipation trying to toy with his calm demeanour. The apprehension slayed him, the arrival imminent. And yet because he were a man of renowned flirtatious nature, cool and charismatic around even the most difficult of people... he found himself excitable… and just a little bit nervous.

Perhaps because it had been a while since they last spoke, perhaps she had changed. Perhaps he had forgotten what she was truly like and his mind had reset all their previous encounters and made him feel he were to be meeting her anew. He cast his mind back, strolling quaintly through his memories, shutting his eyes as he reminisced about her.

\---

When they first met. It was many years ago. Too many. He had lost count.

It was before he had adhered to his father’s request to work at the University, he was posted out at Camp Dragonhead.

Accompanied with a much younger and more squeaky and overconfident version of Alphinaud, she had gracefully billowed through the doors to his chambers. Swirled in cloaks, a steel sword tucked neatly in its sheath. Her white hair was shorter then, bobbing just above her shoulder, flowing in soft curls. Though her eyes, those now familiar yellow eyes, studied him carefully as she approached his desk, walking with purpose and intent.

The Warrior of Light, a paragon of Hydaelyn’s will. Serene, careful, mighty in battle. That was what he had been told.

He bowed deeply, introducing himself. Her voice was light, gentle, edged with a certain fierce coyness.

He dipped his head into his hand as he sat back down, listened to her intently and as she finished to let him respond to her request, a loud commotion thundered from outside the walls of his office.

A herd of muttonmaw ogres had stampeded to outside the Camp’s gates.

“Though we have just met,” Haurchefant began in a humoured tone, as they all stood outside the doors, “If you could perhaps show my men how to really fight these beasts, I shall grant you and the Scions the request you have asked of me.”

He watched her as she turned up to look at him, tilting those beautiful eyes, a sly smile splayed across her face as Alphinaud bickered to her in the background about urgency.

“I shall make it so then, Ser Knight.” She said, giving him a coy wink.

In a split second she had darted forward, unsheathing her blade as she threw herself into the throng of soldiers and beasts.

He watched her dance an entrancing dance of battle, her blade glinting lustrously in the Coerthas daylight. She moved effortlessly, spinning and landing with such grace between soldiers and protecting them, besting the creatures that once were a thick line of madness.

Haurchefant’s heart mimicked her action, soaring in his ribcage, sinking and rising in loops and swaying motions like a pendulum that has lost its rhythm.

“By Halone, she is more graceful than the Fury herself.” Haurchefant said, his gasp cutting to a stop in his throat. Alphinaud, still by his side, cleared his throat. The Fortemps Knight glanced down to see the young elezen blushing furiously, a small, deadpan stare meeting him from beneath his white fringe.

Haurchefant chuckled, continuing to stare at the display in awe.

Who knew that Haurchefant would win the young boy over with his hot chocolate and camaraderies in years to come.

But he knew one thing for sure, in this very moment as he watched the warrior continue her aweing display of prowess.

He knew, that though he were unsure in what shape or form, that he would fall in love with the Warrior of Light.

\---

The second time they met, was many years later.

Though Alphinaud would frequent visits to the camp, humbled by Haurchefant’s charming nature and stories to tell, the warrior had been encumbered by too many tasks, rumours of bad tidings from the Garlean’s had pulled her away from her duties near Revenant's Toll.

Then one day, Alphinaud stopped coming.

It wasn’t until he was on what one would perhaps call a date with a charming highborn elezen in Ishgard, that he realised the warrior was still well… in a way.

The choice of restaurant Haurchefant had picked was one of the finest in Ishgard. Hanging over the highborn area it was considered a popular place for fine dining. Embellished in gold and silver the restaurant looked grand at night, an eden of exquisitely high windowed walls, a stunning starlit vista of Coerthas and the city hung below it.

The interior was gold and marble, drapes of scarlet red material were neatly hung over tables and curtain rails, white chiffon perfectly contrasted against it. In the distance a grand piano thrummed quietly, notes of a song tinkled, hanging in the air, glittering like the chandeliers that hung from the ornate ceiling.

Garbed in an elegant suit, hints of red and black woven through it with a marigold yellow neck scarf, Haurchefant leaned forward, letting strings of compliments, velvety laced and filled with ardour tumble from his lips as the woman in front of him giggled and pawed at him. She was enamoured by the fact he was taking up a job as a Professor at the University of Ishgard, beginning that year.

They were seated near the centre of the room, other tables bustled and busied themselves with stylish banter, waiters weaving in and out and serving up the most decadent and lavishly decorated meals.

As she excused herself for the powder room Haurchefant stood to let her from her seat, then slunk back down and took a sip of his red wine, casually resting an arm around the back of his chair as he languorously let his eyes sweep the room.

That was when he saw her.

Seated by a small table by the bay windows, the blackest night her backdrop, the warrior sat by herself, hand cusping her delicate face in one hand, a glass crystal of wine neatly housed in the other. A light swaying motion of her hand swirled the rich red liquid from within its glassy confines. She stared contemplatively through the window, sighing slightly.

Framed against the window she looked angelic, her dress a deep gold in colour, metallic against the light. Her hair was longer now, tied up into a ponytail, tresses of white flowing behind her and curling against the back of her dress. She looked… _different_. A little older, a little less like the scampish warrior he had first met. She wore hints of makeup, a blush across her lips, deep eyeshadow accentuating pale yellow eyes, sullen like a waning moon.

She looked sad.

He felt his stomach twist, nipping at the sides as he immediately became lost in thought, a need to go see her pinching at his mind.

He hadn’t even heard his date return to the table.

“Haurchefant dear, are you okay?”

He snapped from his stare, blinking as he carved a great and charming smile across his face, taking her hand, kissing it softly. “Always my dear.”

He was fine, but was the warrior?  
The rest of the evening were a distraction. She was the distraction. Haurchefant kept throwing glances over to the warrior, when she ate, when she daubed her lips, all whilst looking a little forlorn.

His acts of distraction had obviously been noticeable. A small huff from in front of him told him his date had caught him out once again.

“Pray, are you staring at the warrior of light again? Do you know her personally?” She sighed, eyebrows creased into an irritated expression.

“I only wonder why she looks so sad.” Haurchefant said honestly, as a waiter brought a fresh bottle of wine.

“Well you can wonder alone then.” She scoffed, standing up. Haurchefant mouthed wordlessly as she frowned at him. “You have been wondering about her all night.”

With a swish of beaded lace she turned, bustling away from the table. The waiter blinked at him as Haurchefant shouted “Pray, I’ll see you soon then?” smiling, realising his folly.

He sighed, still smiling at himself. He nodded at the waiter as he stood up, taking the bottle of wine and with the grace of a true gentleman he approached the table the warrior was sat at.

“What gentleman dares to stand you up, pray let me know for I shall hunt him down and knock some sense into him myself.” Haurchefaunt flirted, standing by the table. Slowly her head swept up to look at him, round eyes widening and a small smile broke across her face for the first time all evening.

“It appears no one was worthy of my attention tonight but myself,” she said, eyes crinkling in amusement.

Haurchefant bowed, sweeping a hand across himself, “Mayhaps I might be worthy of your gracious attention on this fine eve?”

She laughed, brilliant, like windchimes.

“Hm, mayhaps. Though the offering you have brought has certainly raised those chances. Please, sit.”

He grinned like a schoolboy in front of a crush, slinking into the chair across from her and he dismissed the waiter idly who pounced by, grinning as he said he would serve the lady himself.

Her glass once empty was now filled with a beautiful rich red wine, the smell reached his nostrils, an enchanting melody of rich fruit and the hint of warm spices.

“Haurchefant Greystone.” She began, taking the glass from him having filled it.

Haurchefant said her given name, fully, with reverence “Though we only have met once before, I oft think of it and your wellbeing.”

Gently, he took her hand and placed his lips lightly pressed against them. “Pray forgive me for being so untoward as we are nought but distant acquaintances to each other... but I daresay you look a little forlorn considering you are in one of the finest establishments in all of Ishgard.”

He couldn’t help it, her skin smelled like fresh spring, it was a small refreshing moment that pierced through the Coerthas winter. He felt his heart jolt in excitement, her alluring presence intoxicating.

A small blush formed across her face, and she tilted her head away, looking at him through a sideways glance. Her hand slipped from his grasp.

“I simply wanted to indulge myself one small decadence before I throw myself back into the fray as Warrior of Light… and I may not be back for some time.” She said simply, her voice quiet, a little distant. “It appears I did not have my fellow Scions to share it with for they are otherwise occupied in a rather dangerous situation.”

She blinked, eyes glistening slightly. She stared out the window again, clutching the glass in her palm once again. Her throat bobbed as she tried to clear her throat.

It hit Haurchefant immediately. He remembered in that instant the missive, the one he had received in light of Alphinaud’s disappearance. It detailed the Scion’s motionless bodies, a deathless slumber, the lack of cure, how delicate this information was and it were for his eyes only due to the urgency of it all.

He remembered and with his empathy in full swing he felt his lungs swell, his own face prickling with a heat as he suddenly felt awful for her.

“My lady… I… I’m sorry for the Scion’s current predicament.” He said in a hushed tone, leaning over the table less formally, “If there is anything I can do to help-”

She swung her head round, a sudden mask falling over her face. He saw it, clear as day. A broad smile that quivered beneath crinkled eyes, that tilted head that indicated she was putting on her strongest face. He knew because he had seen it in others before, those that fought on the field, enduring, always enduring.

“Ach, please do not worry for me, Ser Greystone.” She chided cheerfully “If you wish to do anything for me, please, let us enjoy this fine wine together, if it pleases you so.”

She held the now half glass up to him, smiling serenely.

“It would please me greatly.” He said, holding the glass up and clinking it against hers.

Several bottles later and much chat. The two of them left the restaurant in high spirits.

He crushed her to his side as she tried to drunkenly slip her black velveteen cloak around herself, slapping his hand as he flirtatiously dipped his head, commenting on her tall black heels that peeked through the slit in her dress.

“Perhaps, I should take them off, they hurt my feet so-” she said resolutely, swaying on the spot in the street as she tried to throw her leg up to grab them. Haurchefant clutched her harder, laughing raucously, barking drunkenly as she stumbled, legs both flailing from his grip. “Please, I should just, take them-”

“My lady if you do that your feet shall surely perish in the cold.” Haurchefant roared in amusement, sweeping her along the street.

Swooping down a stairwell they weaved through alleys, unsure of where they were going. Haurchefants mind was a little aware, but the wine had drowned his thoughts, the blissful high of being giddy with another person whom he just gelled with in personality filled him with a familiar comfort. Who knew the Warrior of Light would get along with him so well?

His heart swelled a little more at the thought.

Between the many stairs that wound down through Ishgard, they stopped halfway at a small balcony that was one of many, a stone wall stopped them from tumbling too much as Haurchefant clutched her. They both turned to face the skyline.

The night was clear, stars flecked across the sky like pale diamonds, the moon was full, a snowy white glow cast down across the two inebriated people.

“Y’know.” She started, as Haurchefant snaked his arms around her again, “Alphinaud would oft speak highly of you. Said we would get along, we were both just as mad.” She chuckled, “The way he said it, however, he…” she broke into a drunk giggle, waving her hand to pause as she swayed, “He spoke of it as if he were jealous.”

“I would be jealous if I were him.” Haurchefant rumbled, smoothing her cloak against her figure, “To get along with the Warrior of Light so easily is such a blessing in itself.”

She tutted playfully, bouncing into his side to push him away and he gave her a mock look of shock. “You say these words because you dare not insult the child of Hydaelyn, not for who I really am.”

“Nay,” Haurchefant said, he himself swayed. The air was crisp, the wine kept a warm fire burning in his face as he gently turned the warrior to face him, both hands now on her waist. “I say them because it’s true.”

A new pink tinge broke through her skin, her rosy cheeks bloomed even hotter.

Oh sod it. Haurchefant thought drunkenly, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Sometimes,” he said, leaning down closer to her, “There just so happens to be two people in the world that just…” he reached up, ghosting a thumb over her neck as he placed a hand there, afraid to move further, “... that just…” why did the words suddenly allude him?

He could feel her close to his face.

“... that are well suited?” she said, her voice breathy but also a little slurred.

“Yes.”

The space between them closed. Her eyes pooled, her heels made her height easy to lean into.  
The fresh smell mingled with the warmth and spiciness of wine. His chest tensed, feeling her tremble against him as he pulled her flush against his body.

He lowered his eyes, his lips close, they quivered with excitement, a heat rushing to them as they tingled in anticipation.

Wait, why was there such a long pause?

He opened his eyes fully, she was looking at him, her own bow shaped lips parted slightly.

He shuddered, something didn’t feel right. In another second he could feel her trembling differently against him.

It was.

This was.

They both corpsed against each other. Intense drunken giggling filled the wintery silence in the air. Puffs of condensation swirled around them.

“This doesn’t feel right.” Haurchefant said as she gripped his chest, both of them riding out the wave of their laughter.

They were both drunk fools.

“I can’t place why.” She said, pressing her forehead against his, “You seem to be like…” she rolled her head slightly against him as she tried to compose her inebriation, “Something that feels a little more precious than just a stolen kiss.”

Her words rang true. He realised he felt the same.

“My sentiments exactly,” He said. Lightly he pulled his head back and placed a gentle kiss against her forehead, with the tender feeling one might do out of care for a friend. “Perhaps we are destined to be merely close companions instead.”

She smiled, lacing her fingers through his free hand, holding it to her chest as she pressed the side of her head into him, resting there.

“I would like that.” She sighed. “Indulge me the comfort of a friend tonight.”

He could feel her loneliness, it was like a sudden wave of sadness. His face felt hollow, overwhelmed when he contemplated what she must be feeling right now. Alone, lost, confused as to the fate of her friends, those that she must revere as family...

“You will get them back,” Haurchefant whispered, holding her tight against him, feeling her fingers pulse as they gripped his hand more firmly in response, “I promise you.”

“Thank you my friend.” She croaked.

They wavered gently together on the spot. A quiet breeze ruffled his hair, cooling against the warmth of his face. He let his eyes close, still in the moment, the feeling of her breathing against him a metronome to their peaceful embrace.

And it was that evening, that Haurchefant Greystone, through complete selfless adoration, fell in love with the Warrior of Light.

\----

The third time they met, proper, was his pursuit of her to be resident at the University.

It was a couple of years after they had last seen each other.

Eorzea had begun to pave it’s way towards an era of peace, threats had lessened, countries had brokered peace and things were beginning to look better for the realm. Though dangerous and dark arts happened, monsters lurked and forces still fought in small battles, it was not nearly as saturated as it once was when the generations of Warrior of Light’s provided themselves to help the realm.

It had been his father Edmont whom had suggested to him that he contact her again. Haurchefant and the warrior had spoken in long letters, idle gossip, small sentences of well being and longing words were exchanged between them after the last time they spent together.

There was one issue with his father’s plan to ask her.

He simply could not find her with ease.

His meeting with the Scions elicited confusion to her whereabouts. After a few awkward exchanged looks between them, they told him she had not been feeling herself after they had returned safely from the First. With a need to be alone, she had simply disappeared one night.

One particular Scion, Thancred, looked pained as he described to Haurchefant that she most likely had sailed East, towards Kugane. Haurchefant recognised the man, from the warrior’s brief foray into telling him about the rather painful ending to her relationship with the Hyur gentleman.

He stepped off the boat, feeling the warmth and humidity of a new climate hit him in a wave of sensory wonder as he looked up, eyes round with awe at the towering peaks of the buildings in Kugane.

It had been the first time he had ventured overseas so far to such a far off land.

He looked around as he paced through the gate and into the square, immediately feeling inadequate in his travellers clothes, eyeing up the beautiful ornate fabrics of Hingan attire.

Another boat ride and he was upon sand, the light fabric of his outfit wrapped keenly around him rustled in the gentle warm breeze. The Ruby Sea was as beautiful as described by the boatmen in Kugane.

The beach stretched for malms, he patiently strode through the heat, the sky clear as birds sailed in the air above him. The gentle lapping of the waves against sun bleached sand was soothing as he rounded the corner to find a large bay, a small nest of wooden buildings sat, with one further alone, isolated on the beach.

Her white hair, scooped into that bun was instantly recognisable to him. His image of how she looked never had left his mind.

She was sitting on the steps of her small house, sunkissed skin, golden against those unforgettable pale yellow eyes, more valuable than the rarest treasure. She wore black and gold, a beautifully patterned wrap that housed her relaxed body.

The warrior didn’t look up until the very last second, until Haurchefant stood looming over her, a shadow cast against the sun, his attempt to feign his big grin failed for he was so full of excitement.

Tears filled her eyes as she leapt up, abandoning the fabric she was sewing carefully as she threw herself into his arms. He spun her, the pressure of her body against his filled his chest with complete adoration, his heart swelled, the familiar smell of her filled him, making him giddy once again. She lightly kissed his nose, and he responded by planting one upon the curve of her chin as they laughed, wordlessly greeting each other in a loving embrace. She sobbed in joy as he pulled her flush against him once again, burying his nose into her hair, grinning into her.

“Count Edmont wishes to have you for his University.” Haurchefant said, later that evening, as the sun began to set gently over the horizon. A beautiful haze of reddy orange glittered across the sea, illuminating rocks like rubies in the ocean, cast against the water, it’s reflections flittered with great beauty.

He had watched as she had emerged from the water after a slightly tipsy swim, bounding up the beach. He tried to ignore the way the fabric of her shirt she had changed to over her swimsuit clung to her, knowing full well he was just being a lech. She knew this too for she pouted at him, grabbing his hair as she sank to sit next to him and ruffling his head. “Stop.”

“I cannot resist my dear.” Haurchefant murmured, handing her a glass of wine, “You have such a fine body that I wish to worship-”

“Stop!” she said, grabbing some food from one of the many small plates around them and shoving an onigiri into his mouth. “Stop.”

He laughed, rice flecked around the corner of his mouth. “Count Edmont wishes to have you for his University.” He growled through a mouthful of food, repeating himself.

“For why?” She said, hugging her legs close to her chest, tilting her head to look at him as she sipped the wine. He had thought to bring her the same wine they had that night.

“Given Eorzea’s movement into peace, father felt that, maybe I felt that… your knowledge would be a fine addition to the University.”

“And.” She continued for him.

“And… I would like it if you were in a more reachable place rather than thousands of malms away on the other side of the realm…”

She snorted, placing the wineglass down.

“It is an interesting prospect,” she mused, ringing some of the fabric of her shirt to get the moisture out, “It’s something I’ll consider then.”

Haurchefant beamed.

“Splendid. I do hope you’ll say yes.”

They sat together in silence, eating and drinking and watching as the sun slowly fell beyond the horizon, making way for night time. Nothing but the sound of cicadas and the lapping of waves filled the air. With a flick of aether the warrior lit the lanterns in her home and Haurchefant watched her, a golden glow illuminating her mature face.

She had changed. Every time he saw he she always seemed to have more stories etched across her. Like a fine wine she had aged well. His fondness for that roguish personality he first met still lingered there, but now she was more complex, worn by experiences, a myriad of beauty and richness that made her so remarkably wonderful.

“I realise I have no spare room.” She started, “I can take the hammock outside and you can take my bed.”

“My dear, we can share a bed can we not?” He said, leaning over her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. His fingers lingered over her now dry shirt, gently rubbing the soft cotton between his fingers and she sighed.

“I trust you dear Haurchefant,” she said, grinning against his arm as she pressed her face into his skin, “But I somehow do not trust you won’t attempt something if we were to share a bed together.”

He pulled away, looking like a sad puppy at her as he whined “You wound me with your words dear Warrior of Light! I promise I won't cuddle you too much.” He felt a nip. She had bitten him. He made a small yelp as she laughed, “If I’m much mistaken it will be you I have to watch out for!”

She stood up, yawning, looking at him wryly. “I assure you I am not want to pursue anything at this moment in time.” She said, her face suddenly deadpan, “I just wish for the fine company of my fellow companion, lecherous as you are you will suffice for now.”

She tried to keep her deadpan expression but it burst into a dazzling tipsy smile. She laughed raucously, tilting her head back as Haurchefant tried to grab her legs, but she danced nimbly out of the way.

The humidity even in the evening meant the covers were light, thrown down to only cover their legs. Lying in silence, Haurchefant tilted his head to the side as he lay on his back, looking at the young woman curled up, facing him, peacefully asleep. Her hands were scooped beneath her head as she rested on them.

He had _missed_ her. So very much. Though they did not frequently meet there was a certain part of him that just _missed_ her. Like a heretic who was starved when they could not find the time to worship their idol, Haurchefant felt that in her presence he was renewed, reinvigorated. He would give his life to her if he could, selflessly, adoringly, lovingly.

He curled to the side, respecting her wishes of no tomfoolery. But perhaps one little bit of contact…

His lips neared the top of her head, gently pressing against them as he inhaled her scent. Gods, he’d forsake Halone if it meant he could worship her.

“I’ll do it.” came a mumble that made him jolt. He glanced down and noticed a small smile hiding amongst the fray of white hair splayed around her face.

“I’ll move to Ishgard, teach at the University.”

“You will?”

“Yes, I think it’d be fun, the change I need.”

He inhaled deeply, his chest swelled as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. She sighed half sleepedly, letting him. He curled over her, unfurling his legs to cradle her against him with great care. Protectively.

He breathed her name, joy tangled with his voice in excited hushed whispers.

“I love you.” Haurchefant said, the great truth sprung forth from him with such perfect ease.

“I know.”

He felt a hand upon his chest, a gentle movement in her fingers against the fabric of his shirt indicated a moment of acknowledgement.

He knew full well she was the one who struggled with it. He knew of her past with Thancred. And yet, even though she could not say it in return, confirm those words heavy with emotion out loud, he knew deep down...with the way she was with him, that she, as a friend, felt it too.

\----

There was a knocking at the door. A knock that struck Haurchefant from his reveries. He hadn’t realised how deep he had been within them, tangling with those sweet memories.

He leapt with great ferocity from his lounging position, flipping sideways off the chair and tangoing with the mug of hot chocolate as he lost grip of it, trying to not spill any across his shirt sleeves. Recovering quickly and slamming the mug down he dashed to the door.

How long had it been since that time in Othard? A good few months now? He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he cleared his throat, opening the door.

His heart leapt.

“Hello Haurchefant.” She said, those pale eyes blinking in wonderment at him, “How amazingly wonderful it is to see you again my friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello XIV readers, I hope you're all doing well and staying safe and taking care during this time! Long time no speak but I'm still here <3 
> 
> I realise it's been FOREVER since I updated, I've been working on my other fic! But I've been hitting a wall with that one so maybe it's time to come back to Eorzea for the time being :)


	21. Reveries and Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes are back in session, the Professors get themselves adjusted for the second half of term.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Ok I shall make this chapter a quick few thousand words  
Also me: Almost 8k words later...
> 
> ____________________________________

Dusty motes hung in the air, suspended by a stale, stuffy stillness that lingered amongst the halls of the university. 

A throng of students swirled down the corridor, raucous banter punching the atmosphere, causing the flecks of dust to spiral ever upwards, clinging to the old ornate lanterns that lined the vaulted ceilings.

Outside, the snow mirrored the cosy interior, gentle light flickers of icy patterns that danced through the air like fractals of aether. The Coerthian winter was endless, but at this stage late in the year meant the thick, dense swirl of a harsh cold front was beginning to press it’s way around the city state, readying itself for a long period of snowstorms and ice. 

After the mid term break, classes had begun again. And today was the first day back.

The early morning light cast sombre illuminations across offices and classrooms, through large dusty windows and down into lecture theatres, the echoes of voices, feverish and excited filled the air, reverberating amongst the sound of the bells as they rang to warn students to hurry to classes.

“Good morning Professor Greystone!” chimed students as the elezen paced down the corridor, a bounce in his step. His yellow, red and black cloak wove it’s way behind him, a trail of colour and pride, flourishing his presence with great ardour between every step.

He loved the university, he loved the students, he loved being a Professor. 

Haurchefant bowed and flashed a dazzling smile in return. He twirled round a corner, ducking between a swathe of students clutching wooden dragoon lances as they marched to Ser Wyrmblood’s lessons. 

He chuckled, remembering how Estinien had spent the last few days finalising the roof that he had inadvertently broken during his raging escapades with the one woman who appeared to drive him mad. 

When he had concluded his repairs, Estinien had stomped into Haurchefant’s office, trailing mud and snow as he threw down the workman's tool belt across the hearth of the fireplace, grunted something about serving his penance before violently clawing a fistful of sweets from a bowl upon the Professor’s desk and trailing back out of the room, slamming the office door with the force of a disgruntled teenager. 

Haurchefant’s reveries were punctuated by the sudden force of a pile of books bumping against his elbow, which toppled, skittering across the marbled floors as Alphinaud squeaked, apologising profusely as he snapped himself down to pick them up. 

Haurchefant paused, smiled kindly and helped the young elezen finish gathering his materials letting his idle gaze graze over the titles, noticing the theme that strung them together.

_Ishgard of modern times - A Current Political Map, Coerthas and it’s camps - Relationships of Peace and Trade. Eorzea Alliances - The history of her politics. _

“All for Professor Borel’s class I assume? Pray, would you like me to help you carry them?” Haurchefant inquired quirkily, standing up and placing the final book upon the pile that teetered dangerously in Alphinaud’s arms.

Over the worn leather covers, Alphinaud's ears could be seen turning pink as he stammered. 

“Oh not to worry Professor, I can manage! Yes I unrolled in his advanced classes, I realise they are a year above my level but I convinced Professor Borel I could manage,” Alphinaud stopped mid sentence as he made a small noise, trying to not let the generous pile betray him again. 

Haurchefant chuckled, patting Alphinaud rigorously on the back as he spoke. “I see you’ve developed a fondness for Professor Borel then. Pray, tell me what evoked this sentiment?”

Alphinaud’s ears burned even hotter as if they were trying to cast a spell. 

“Ah yes! Well um. I guess, after what happened before the break and um. I just think if-” he said the warriors true name before correcting himself “- I mean Professor Light thinks he is a good Professor so-”

Haruchefants laugh made Alphinaud stop. A blessing before, as the Professor sensed, the boy would stammer himself into a fluster. 

“No need to explain, Alphinaud my boy, enjoy the class,” Haurchefant said, sliding past him and giving him a knowing smile and a wink, which left Alphinaud more flustered than intended.

Haurchefant twirled around down another lengthy corridor, saying good morning to more students. The smell of used wax and parchment filled the air and he sighed dreamily, smiling at himself as he thought fondly of Alphinaud. 

Alphinaud had come to tell Haurchefant of his confession one evening in the House Fortemps manor, something which he himself had tried to stifle his laugh in reaction to the poor lad. Alphinaud was not one of little intelligence and was betrayed by his reaction yet Haurchefant reassured him simply it was because he had sensed it was coming.

He foresaw the bubble of such adolescent confusion would eventually burst, the events transpiring on the journey to find Estinien being the trigger for his need to admit to Light of his boiling cacophony of emotions. 

He silently wished Alphinaud well. Knowing full well the Levilliuer Twins were entwined closely with Light as Scions... And knowing his dear light well enough, he could predict how the warrior would have responded to him. 

Yet, mayhaps he would tease- no, question her of what transpired another time. 

Ah, his favourite corridor was coming up. 

Long, tiled wonderfully, it had a certain dreaminess to it from the way the light shone ethereally through patterned glass, casting dapples of sunlight across the ornate checkered marble floor. 

That and, the occasional vase of flowers that was placed carefully in front of a statue, on a windowsill, on side tables that ran along to his right, against the wooden wall of the lecture theatres. 

One of these theatres, being the one that Light would frequent her lectures in. 

Light had been moving the flowers Haurchefant had filled her room with, first as gifts to students. At first it was the innocent tactic of just placing them outside her lecture theatre so they would not wilt in the dark, with the promise of picking them up after her classes were done. 

But then a distraction would occur and she would forget. 

And now the corridor flourished, beautiful shades of blue and yellow flowers like small bursts of colour against the steely cold greys of the Ishgardian atmosphere. 

Light had told him about this before everything had happened with Estinien, Haurchefant jesting that now this corridor was a shrine to the great Warrior of Light, Halone should watch out - (This was advertently greeted with a swift pinch to the elezen’s ear, deservedly.) 

He hadn’t had a chance to see it til now given classes were out, but here seeing it on the first day back from the break... 

It felt like a blessing. 

Lectures were in session now, a calmness swept across the hallway as Haurchefant peered into Light’s lecture theatre. 

Students shuffled within the confines of their benches, placing heavy tomes and notebooks onto the thin wooden tables that barred them into their seats. 

Light stood, fiddling with the projector. Though she was far away, he caught a glimpse of her expression, she was happy, yet seemed to be apologising to one of her students who in turn, was waving their hands as if to stop her from doing so. 

Then the student placed their hand over the projector, letting their own aether power it to life. 

Haurchefant felt his stomach pang, a quick wave of sadness momentarily gripped him as he realised she was still unable to harness her own aetheric flow fully. 

“My dear boy if you stare any harder at her I shall fear she was a primal and you’ve been tempered by her.” 

Haurchefant whipped his head around, to see his father standing there with a suave smile upon his face, hands clasped around his cane as he stood under layers of black velvet cloaks. 

“I shall not deny the possibility that she _were_ an eikon, summoned by my desire,” Haurchefant responded jokingly, as Edmont paced over to him, slapping him haughtily upon the back. 

“I’d watch that silver tongue of yours dear boy,” he teased, voice smooth and booming, “I’ve heard the faintest of rumours she may be spoken for now.” 

“You wound me so father,” Haurchefant gasped dramatically, tearing away from one last glance through the slim panelled windows before walking with his father, “News travels fast, yet they are rumours I refuse to accept, for we know our dear warriors' heart is bound to me-” 

Edmont gave Haurchefant a sidelong glance, the corner of his lip twitching. 

“_Haurchefant_.” 

“I jest! I jest dear father!” 

Edmont made a small snort, closing his eyes and tilting his head downwards as they both walked.

“She’s certainly won the hearts of many,” Edmont said, smiling to himself. 

“One of the many feats the warrior is blessed with.” 

“Indeed. How lucky of Aymeric then to have won hers, no?” 

Haurchefant laughed, chuckling off his father’s comment, knowing full well it was a more complex matter than such. 

“She has brought an exciting refreshing wind of change to this Uni,” Haurchefant mused. “Would you not agree?” 

Edmont chuckled so hard it turned into a wheezing cough. Haurchefant watched as he politely brought a curled hand to his mouth to stifle it, before opening his eyes and gazing ahead. 

“Yes, she has certainly brought a change to the air to this place since her position began,” Edmont said. “Riling poor Estinien into destroying a portion of my building, putting her life on the line to heal Aymeric, not a day has gone by where excitement hasn’t been the centrepiece when she is in our presence.” 

Haurchefant smiled, turning his head to stare along the windows as they walked, witnesses flurries of snow gather in icy patterns against the dusty glass, clinging for brief seconds before melting against the pale sunlight. 

“It feels more than that. She’s eclectic, a ray of sunshine amongst our otherwise grey halls don’t you think?” 

Edmont patted Haruchefant’s back again. 

“Truly you are tempered by her.” Edmont wheezed, laughing. Haurchefant bit back a haughty laugh as they briskly walked past open doors of classrooms, where students were carefully studying books and scrawling notes. 

It was true, he had been the moment he had met her. 

Chalk dust wafted in a messy haze from some rooms where Professors were occupying several boards strewn together, theories and calculations like walls of hieroglyphics, crumbling and white against black slate. 

They approached a set of giant oak doors that were open, the arched doorway leading them into a giant hall with a beautiful granite staircase that curled upwards to upper floors of the building. 

Tapestries hung, each house represented in a soiree of colours, the strong blues of the Ishgardian emblem emblazoned itself across a banner that adorned tall windows with frail frames, ghost like hues of outside pouring in. 

As father and son occupied themselves in idle chatter, they paused momentarily in this grand hall. Haurchefant heard a familiar voice, his long ears prickling. As he continued to listen to his father give him details on his day ahead, he let his gaze tilt to his right towards the rich tones of his friend.

Aymeric was conversing with Professor Augurelt, both elezen walking in great strides down an adjoining corridor before their footsteps clattered and echoed in the great hall. 

Piercing blue eyes, nestled within a stoic hard gaze looked up, locking with Haurchefant and a kind smile eased itself along his handsome features. The end of a conversation tapered off as Urianger and Aymeric stopped short of Edmont. 

“I thank thee for delivering this tincture to her,” Urianger said. “It is apparent that I am burdened with many a task today and not quite the time to attend to them all.” 

Aymeric nodded, patting Urianger on the arm. Urianger brought a hand to his own chin and looked at Aymeric contemplatively. 

“And I pray this shall mean thou will not require to exert thine own aether again.” He said pointedly. Haurchefant saw Aymeric’s ears blossom into a deep red as he cleared his throat. 

Haurchefant was no fool, and surmised that Aymeric had tried to play his hand in trying to cure Light’s aether sickness. He couldn’t help but grin coyly at Aymeric knowing full well the intimate implications sharing ones aether with another so purely could mean. 

“Ah, Professor Augurelt, just the man I was looking for,” Edmont turned, his voice booming joyously. “A note was left upon my desk this morning with a request from you for a meeting.” 

Urianger turned, grey hair shifting against his features as he smiled wisely at him, bowing with grace. 

“Yes, pray thou doth remember I hath mentioned a personage of great import to come assist the university in certain ministrations,” Urianger said, straightening up from his bow. “I wish to discuss with thee the residence of a fellow Scion within our ranks as a temporary measure.” 

“But of course Professor Augurelt,” Edmont boomed, his cane picked at the black and white tiles as he turned, placing an arm around Urianger and leading him away. “Let us discuss this now over a spot of tea in the lounge.” 

As footsteps faded away, Haurchefant calling goodbye to his father, he turned to Aymeric with the biggest shite eating grin he could muster. Aymeric’s eyes widened and he leaned back slightly as the grey haired elezen grabbed him by the arms, staring at him wildly. 

“So it is true, she was right. You _are_ courting!” 

Aymeric went pink, flustered as his long hair fell dishevelled across his face at his friends actions. 

“Haurchefant, dear friend,” Aymeric managed to muster up. “T’was only merely yesterday the proposition and agreement took place…” 

He let go of Aymeric, giddy with excitement as he twirled away, the need for theatrics overwhelming him so. 

“So beautiful, my two most beloved companions together at last!” Haurchefant beamed, his cloak catching between his trousers as he stumbled slightly, breathless and happy. 

He gained footing again, surged forward as he pressed a hand against Aymeric’s chest, the dark velvet waistcoat sunk under the pressure of his fingers. 

“_And_ sharing your aether with her! My my, you deviant.” 

Aymeric’s whole face was red now. His hands came up, clutching Haurchefants with ease and with a delicate motion he lifted them away whilst stammering. 

“T’was merely a means of aid! I- he- Urianger agreed after much persuasion until he could conjure up a potion and and--” 

Leaning back, Haurchefant let out raucous laughter, loud enough several other Professors convening amongst the pillars of the hall looked over in surprise as they jumped in place. 

Haurchefant patted Aymeric on the chest, tilting his head low then giving him a teasing look. 

“I merely jest, dear Aymeric, I know you only ever mean well, that’s what sets you apart from me and Estinien. Certainly you are the purest amongst us three.” 

Aymeric chuckled, adjusting his outfit as he regained composure. 

“I wouldn’t go as far as saying the purest. Such a title is reserved for Halone herself, gods, angels of-” 

Haurchefant loved Aymeric, his dense perceptions clouded by innocence during flustering moments only added to his nature. 

“Perhaps Light? Surely she is pure,” Haurchefant jested, “Often passionate feelings for another paint them in such a way.” 

Aymeric stuttered again, his lips parting as he mouthed soundlessly in a flustered state. 

“I should stop teasing you friend,” Haurchefant laughed, “I would not consider her _pure_ at all. Oh the things I could tell you! Have you seen her in a thin cotton shirt rising from the Ruby Sea? The way the fabric clings-” 

“_Haurchefant.” _Aymeric breathed, “Please.” 

Haurchefant bit his lip, chuckling as he patted Aymeric on the back. 

“Delights you will perhaps see in good time. Come, if you are headed in the direction of our dear Light’s office, then I can accompany you, the chocobos at the university stables require my attention and the location is of the same route as yours.” 

Haurchefant paused, looking at Aymeric. 

“If you’ll have me as a company that is.” 

Aymeric smiled. 

“Your penchant for tomfoolery aside, you are always welcome my friend.” 

Haurchefant threw him a fox-like grin, narrowing his eyes gleefully. 

“Good!” The sound of a heavy slap on the back was dulled by Aymeric’s cloak, shaking excess snow that still clung to the woollen fabric as he turned him, aiming towards another doorway, ornately carved with a fresco of swords and ivy. 

“Pray, tell me all about how this romantic endeavour transpired, Light adamantly chose not to divulge me at breakfast this morning so I wish to hear it from you!”

“Haurchefant.” Aymeric said calmly, his tone patient.

“Does she have a talent for the art of kissing? What did she taste like-” 

“_Haurchefant.” _

\---

Gently, she placed the teacup down, tracing lazy circles around the saucer with her finger, delicately rubbing out the small drops of tea that had spilled. 

Sighing wistfully, Light rested her chin against an open palm, using her free hand to move from the saucer to the teacup, twirling the dregs of tea candidly. 

With the first lecture of the morning out of the way, she had retreated back to her office to prepare notes for her next class. 

The tan coloured liquid caught the dull light of morning through her office windows behind her, casting glossy stains around the cup. 

She was lost in thought, smiling to herself as she cast her mind back to earlier that morning at breakfast in the House Fortemps manor. 

As always a feast for the eyes confronted her, warm welcoming food piled high upon crockery, suitable provided by the talents of the Fortemps kitchen. 

As per normal, Edmont was too busy to join the table and Haurchefant’s other siblings were otherwise occupied. Making this small gathering the normal. 

It was tradition every so often, for Light to grace the Fortemps manor as a family friend, joining them for meals. 

In particular, Haurchefant had hastily sent her an invite for her to join them at the table for breakfast, to welcome in the new mid term start. 

“You needn’t have sent a missive, I had planned to drop by for breakfast ‘ere the term started.” Light said, smiling as she reached for the heavy teapot. A housemaid who had been clearing some dishes bustled, frantically apologising to light and insisting that she herself should pour. 

Quickly, Light, still not used to the pleasantries of house service, told her not to worry as she poured another cup for herself. 

“I was unsure you would join me!” Haurchefant crooned from the head of the table, his hands tented, folded neatly in place as he watched her through silvery lashes contemplatively. 

Light laughed, placing a pat of butter against a thick slice of toast, spooning rolanberry jam upon it before taking a generous bite. The butter was fresh, milky and delicious and she closed her eyes to savour the taste, the tart yet sweet sensations of the jam mellowing itself amongst the buttery goodness and the crisp doughy bread. 

From across Light at the table, the Levielluer twins sat.

Alphinaud was buried in a book, whose title Light had gently tilted her head whilst taking a bite of food to read. _Eorzean Politics: A Succinct History of the Basics_. 

She smiled knowingly. 

The sounds of scraping wood being sharpened could be heard, punctuating the otherwise rather calm and cosy atmosphere of the dining room. Light moved her gaze from Alphinaud to Alisaie, who sat, one leg hiked upon her chair, using her knee to balance the large wooden lance against her. 

She held some rough paper, twirling it around the wood, as dust and fine speckles of wood flurried off the weapon. 

No one had really addressed this so far. Alisaie had a determined glint in her eye. 

Alphinaud, it appeared, decided to bite. 

“Alisaie must you sharpen your lance at the table?” he huffed, sweeping his hand over the pages of his book to brush off a thin layer of dust that had formed. 

Alisaie paused mid action, slowly twisting her neck to look at him, eyeing him up with a narrowed glare. 

“Dear brother I run short of time and I wish to have a well balanced weapon for Ser Wyrmblood’s class,” Alisaie said thickly.

“I’m sure that’s not the only weapon you wish to see well balanced.” Alphinaud muttered snidely, lazily flicking another page of his book and sipping his tea. 

She placed the sandpaper down, leaning back. 

With a quick agile movement, Alisaie swung the lance in a perfect arc through the air, letting the flat side of the spearhead smack Alphinaud upon the crown of his head with a perfect wooden _THWACK!_

The noise cracked through the dining room, causing some house servants to peer through the double doors in panic.

There was a yelping noise, the sound of a teacup clattered across the floor as Alphinaud jumped in his chair. 

“SEVEN HELLS Alisaie.” Alphinaud bellowed. “If I even got a _drop_ of tea on this book-” 

“Professor Borel will be _most_ upset with you, I_ get it._” Alisaie coughed, not even apologising for her actions, “Surely he has more than one copy of that book? You cling to it like he had handed you over the heart of Hydaelyn herself.” 

As people came in to tidy the mess, Light chuckled at the twins bickering, garnering the attention from Alisaie who looked at you and blushed. 

“Ser Wyrmblood huh?” Light teased, watching Alisaie grow furiously beetroot. 

“No! Anyway, _you like_ Professor Borel!” Alisaie barked out, clutching the lance tightly, her knuckles turning white as she twisted them around. Alphinaud, who had settled back into reading his book, swayed his head to avoid the spearhead hitting him again. At his sibling’s words however, his posture stiffened, suddenly alert. Light noticed his eyes grew wide as he furiously stared at the pages of his book, eyes unmoving. 

Alisaie stood up.

“You’ve been fawning over him for weeks! It’s why I am learning extra combat from Estini- I mean Ser Wyrmblood, you never have time to teach me anymore.” 

Alisaie was beyond the colour of the jam on Light’s toast at this point. She looked like she might burst if she jabbed herself with the spear. 

After Alphinaud’s confession, Light had contemplated the twin’s affections for her. She saw them merely as younger siblings and knew that though they were but six or seven summers younger than her, they were still at their young adolescence -- The raging tempest of hormones reigned strongly within them both.

With Alisaie, on the Scions travels especially on the First, it was a feverishly stubborn compassion that the young elezen carried for her. A certain high octane determination emanated from the way she cared for Light. This shone true when Light and Thancred’s relationship came to light, Alisaie locked herself in the Pendants for a whole weekend, refusing to leave because she was ‘_unwell_’. 

Light remembered when she eventually emerged, fully equipped in her red mage gear and determined to go train at the Crystarium barracks for hours on end, ignoring meals. 

To know Alisaie had a small, idling crush on Estinien, someone just as stubborn and headstrong as the young Scion, gave Light comfort.

Unlike Alphinaud, Light knew Alisaie well enough to know she would harness this passion and keep it as a means to motivate herself to get better, stronger, for herself more than anyone else's approval.

That was how Alisaie worked, always wanting to keep ahead of the game. 

“If I may interrupt.” Haurchefant’s voice cut in. “Pardon my untowardness, but it is not merely flirtations now between Ser Aymeric and you, no?” Haurchefant smiled knowingly, the corners of his lips curled so high he had a dangerously impish grin about him. 

Alisaie turned into new shades of red that Light didn’t even know could exist within this realm. 

“You- you- did you both-” Alisaie was gesturing with the lance, waving it as she pointed the spear head at Light. 

“Alisaie, do not use your lance to point at people at the table, it is rather rud,.” Haurchefant said sternly. “And no, I mean a proposition of _courting._ Perhaps on a certain roof garden…” 

Light gently placed her fingers to her lips in thought. How would Haurchefant hear such a thing so quickly- 

She glowered at him. 

_Estinien._

_That perverted voyeuristic swiving piece 0f- _

Haurchefant could read Light’s expression, she felt the blood drain from her face as she realised how quickly talk could spread if the information fell upon the right ears. 

The right pointed, elezen ears.

“Aha, so it _is_ true. Ah, my beautiful flower, plucked by the hands of the most noble Ser Aymerid de Borel...” Haurchefant crooned poetically, his hands gesturing theatrically in motion. 

“_He_ asked _her?!_ What- Why- _**when**_ did this happen!? Did you say yes? What of your aether sickness, did that impact your decision?” 

“Of course it wouldn’t impact her Alisaie,” Haurchefant laughed. “Aether sickness isn’t some fever of lust that causes someone to make ill informed decisions. Ser Aymeric asked her because he’s been pawing after her for months now like a coeurl on catnip.” 

Light stood up, reaching over and grabbing a pear from the large display of fruit at the centre of the table. She rubbed her thumb across the waxy outer before bringing it close to her lips, eyes darting to and fro from Alisaie and Haurchefant. 

“You both have it wrong.” Light said, smirking lopsidedly. “It was _I _who asked _him._”

The sound of teeth on flesh made a soft sinking noise as Light took a wet, fresh chunk of pear into her mouth, turning away from the table and proceeding towards the entrance hall. She nodded, thanking the house servant who was already clutching the thick swathe of cloaks in apprehension of the Professor’s leave. 

Light stole a glance over her shoulder, seeing Alisaie changing shades from red to a shade that even Ifrit would be jealous of. Haurchefant stood eager and excitedly, both hands clenched, arms bent as if he was ready to cheer. 

And Alphinaud lifted his book higher, trying to remove himself from the scene. 

\--- 

There was the neatest and polite knocks at the door. Light called out for the visitor to come in and felt her heart become malleable, pillow-like and fluttering, as Aymeric walked into the room. 

He looked a little dishevelled, his hair tousled more than usual, thick dark raven locks that curled ever so slightly against his porcelain and perfect skin. Azure eyes cast a look at her, causing her breath to hitch, spiking within her lungs as she forgot to breathe in that moment. 

They hadn’t spoken since yesterday, since she bid him goodbye after their confessions to each other. 

She could still imagine the taste of him on her lips, the way he kissed her, moving against her skin as if he had never wanted anything more- 

“My lady?” Aymeric said, his stilled, deep velvety tones quickly cooled the swelling heat that was rising to her face as she quickly wrenched herself from those sinful thoughts. 

Flushed, she peered up at him, composing herself and clearing her throat as he stood at the desk. 

“Aymeric,” she said almost breathlessly, flashing him a warm smile,“G- good morning.” 

Why was it suddenly hard to speak to him again? 

She fumbled haphazardly with the pen on her desk, deciding to occupy herself with something to distract herself from those perfect eyes- 

Quickly grabbing some books on her desk she stood up abruptly, stepping over to the bookshelf on her left as she fumbled to place them back. 

Like a curious dog, she saw Aymeric turn to face her, tilting himself to the side slightly as his brows creased with concern. 

“Is aught amiss?” he questioned, his voice so innocent and sincere. It only helped spark the fluttering cinders within the confines of her ribcage. The hearth of her chest swelled, her heart like a hot coal, stoked to life. 

To her, her resolution, her feelings for Aymeric felt so raw and beautiful and pure, that she found herself almost helpless on how to deal with them. Though they both interacted with such normality the day before, today she felt vulnerable. 

Not in a way it was a threat, yet no amount of layers of titles or titulations could ever cover up her true demeanor, the one she revealed to him willingly. 

She had let Aymeric in, over the threshold of her true self and this was the beginning of something unknown. 

It was. 

It was thrilling. 

Freefalling, no idea on when or where she would land.

She felt younger and giddy again, like the early days of her adventures. 

Light let out a small half laugh half sigh, letting humour lace itself back through her thoughts. 

“I’m merely busying myself whilst I talk to you,” she said lightly, trying to hide a smirk. 

“Oh? And why, pray tell, are you doing such a thing?” 

She turned, felt her cheeks rise in heat as she peered directly at him. He was looking at her so fondly, a kind, gentle stare that felt reserved only for her. 

“The way you stare at me,” she began, her throat running dry, “You look at me in a way that feels different, it’s as if my very aether senses it. It’s… distracting.”

“Distracting? ” Aymeric teased, his eyebrows raised, eyes widening as the edges of his full lips quirked slightly, amused. 

Light moved towards him, placing a hand on her desk upon another book she needed to stow away. She left a hand poised against it as she looked at him, blushing childishly. 

“Yes.” 

Aymeric grinned sheepishly, going pink at the very tips of his ears. He opened his mouth and Light knew a cocky response was incoming. 

“Pray, tell me more, these _thoughts_-” 

A careful playful whack of the book to his arm made him laugh as he teetered to the side to avoid a second attack. 

“You have been speaking with Haurchefant haven’t you!?” Light laughed, her mouth quivering to stifle her laugh and keep a face of fake bemusement. Her stomach twirled, felt drawn towards him as she turned on the spot, putting the tome back on the shelf. 

“Mayhaps. His incorrigible attitude must have brushed off on me as we spoke earlier this morn, forgive me.” Aymeric responded. 

Light could _hear_ him smiling by the way he spoke. 

Light snorted, turned to face him again at the sound of shuffling fabric. Between his slender fingers he held a small vial. Pearlescent teal liquid swirled, catching the light and sparkling slightly. A slight glow emanated from it as Aymeric placed it upon her desk. 

“Professor Augurelt requested I bring you this,” Aymeric said. “He remarked this tincture should help speed up the process of your aether regenerating.” 

“Ah, why thank you, I shall send him my thanks too.” Light said, standing by the desk again, running her hands over the cool glass. She could feel a warmth from it, her aether fluttered in response, a tingling so small. 

“I cannot thank you enough again for um-” she paused, swallowing, “-sharing your aether with me too,” Light finished, head low as she looked up at him. “It was awfully kind of you.” 

She noticed Aymeric’s ears went pinker. A hand flew up to his neck, brushing back hair as he fumbled nervously. 

“I wanted to see you whole and well, it was all I wished,” Aymeric smiled awkwardly. “Much like my intention to come visit you this morn, to wish you a good day and to see how you fared.” 

Light beamed, she felt her insides go cool and hot at the same time, dazed by the kindness he was displaying to her. 

“And you too.”

There was a moments silence between them, she hadn’t realised how close he was standing. It felt like eternity, drawn out by the electric tension that charged between them. The thumping of blood in her ears counted the seconds with every perfect beat.

He was towering over her.

It felt like they were trying to skirt around something all over again. 

Then Aymeric jumped slightly, his eyes wide as if he remembered something. 

“Oh I ah- almost forgot, forgive me.” A gloved hand delved into the confines of his cloak. Fabric shifted again as he brought out a large ornate domed glass jar. Gold foiling detailed the lid, matching the rich lustrous tones of the viscous liquid that was housed within. 

Neatly, a blue ribbon was cross tied, adorned upon the top with careful regard. 

“For your coffee, or your tea.” Aymeric said, holding it out like an offering with both hands towards her. 

Light slowly reached out, pressing both her hands atop his. Though his hands were gloved she felt him tense in reaction, as if the contact was searing through the fine black leather. 

Then he relaxed.

Looking up she saw two smears of pink beneath his eyes as he looked at her, his lips parting.

“Thank you, Aymeric.” 

His blue eyes bore into hers then darted away, Light sensing her prolonged contact might make him _pass out_ at this point. 

“N- no need to thank me, ‘tis but a small gesture.” Aymeric stammered, words caught him a little as Light couldn’t help but chuckle. “I- I would ask of one thing.” 

Light tilted her head ever so slightly, she noticed he stole a glance of her lips before looking away again nervously. 

“Aymeric, why so nervous?” 

“It seems it is your turn to distract me with your _gaze_.” 

Light’s throat caught and she chewed her bottom lip carefully, as he spoke again. His voice broke slightly at the beginning, before smoothing out into a cello like glissando of deep awkwardness as he formed his request slowly. 

“I- wanted, if I could request, here, I know we are of a working environment, classes are in session and we are but _professionals_ but if-” 

Light remained patient, waiting for his sentence to fully arise with bated breath. 

“If-” 

“Hm?” She smiled.

“If you- 

“I?”

“Would indulge me a kiss?” 

Light’s breath soared in her lungs, an exhale that wavered, becoming a small laugh as she brought a hand up to try and stifle it. 

She stepped closer, closing the space, her face burning. 

“Aymeric, we are in the privacy of my office… and you need not ask,” she said gently, her hand reaching up to cup his sharp features, skin warm and soft, his jawline shifted as she felt him swallow.

He tilted his head, leaning into her touch, eyes dipping low as he looked at her lovingly. Eyes like satin, shimmering in the low light, relief like a spell of calm amongst the energy of students bustling in the halls outside. 

A beautiful blue sky after the storm had passed.

“I am yours,” Light said, words like an incantation, reassurance like a salve.

“And I, yours.” Aymeric responded, his voice low, a fervent rumble that rolled from his throat, making Light’s toes curl. His head moved forward, their weight shifting as he closed the space between them, lips capturing hers in one swift delicate motion.

It was bliss. His scent overwhelmed her. The feel of him against her, lips like pads of electricity, causing her skin to _burn_. 

The sound of the jar of birch syrup being clumsily placed upon her desk was drowned out by the blood pounding in her ears as two large hands reached up, caging her small face against his, fingertips tenderly weaving themselves into her hair, silken tresses falling back as he deepened the kiss. 

His tongue brushed her lower lip, before she opened further and let him in, their mouths moving with perfect synchronicity. 

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. All the insecurities and worries Light had were gone, washed away beyond a wall of serenity that cocooned them both. The warm ashy smells of the fireplace mingled like a comforting blanket, light from the embers a tranquil halo of peace as she sighed against his lips. 

Like a candle with a too long a wick, her aether _burned._

When they broke away, he pressed his forehead against hers, gazing deeply into the depths of her eyes. She could feel him, drowning in her stare, as if he were searching, ever falling further inward into her life. 

Like a mermaid dragging a sailor into the depths of the ocean, she was captivated by him. 

She felt breathless, as if drowning in a beautiful dream she did not want to wake from. 

Light leaned into him, her hand slipped from his face, meeting the other as she sunk herself into the depths of his velveteen waistcoat. Burying hands against plush threading, she indulged herself the feeling of his chest rising and falling, his

heartbeat a siren song metronome, pulsating quickly against layers of fine Ishgardian clothing. 

That humbling scent.

It was all too perfect. 

Aymeric wrapped his arms around her, placing a chaste kiss upon the crown of her head before burying his nose into her hair. Light made a small hum of approval, letting him drink in the depths of her.

The sound of bells tolled, echoing more than usual through the dreamy depths of her office, bassy tones warbling and warning of the end of classes.

Light sighed. 

“Be this a dream, I never wish to wake from it.” Aymeric sighed wistfully, his voice rumbled through her head, chorusing with the heavy tones of the bells outside. 

“Then let’s never-” Light began to say quietly though she stopped almost abruptly, pulling away delicately from heavy arms and warm cloak fur with quick finesse. 

Though her aether still fragile, she sensed it. A tiny plucking of a thin string of aether twinged within in her, her senses alert. A chaotic ball of energy was close. Her instincts made her eyes dilate as she looked towards the door. 

Before Aymeric could question what was wrong, voices could be heard, getting louder with every stomping footstep along the hallway. 

“Alisaie I don’t think you can just barge in there and-” a simpering tone, erratic, frantic. 

“Shut up brother, I know what I want-” came the louder sister, footsteps hard and fast approached Light’s door. 

A thick yet sharp knock, no, _hammering_ of the door. Before Light could even straighten herself up and call her visitor in, the oaken door flew open. Attached to the handle was Alisaie, stumbling forward with her brother quickly in tow, trying to grab the coattails of her outfit to stop her. 

“I want you to create extra curricular combat classes, the same as Ser Wyrmblood.” Alisaie shouted. Light saw her catch her words in her mouth at the end of her request, eyes darting between her and Aymeric as she felt him step a little back, just as caught in the moment as she was. 

Alisaie went red, fists clenched as she continued her demand, speaking _at _the Professor. 

“I think it’d be good for you _and_ the students if you teach us how to fight too.” Alisaie said firmly, stiff and towering in her pose. Behind her, Alphinaud caught his breath, clutching a heavy satchel of books as he tried to find himself again to explain. 

“Pro- Pro- _Prof-” _Alphinaud panted. “Professor Borel, Professor Light, good morning, I apologise for the intrusion. My sister-” Alphinaud bowed so low to Light and Aymeric that his braided hair swept across his boots.

“Your _sister_ is making a request.” Alisaie snapped back, then looked at Light. 

Light knew Alisaie wasn’t looking at her as a Professor, but as a fellow Scion, companion, friend at the breakfast table. 

All formalities faster out the window than Estinien escaping a scene, Light sighed, pressing her hand to her hips and another to the bridge of her nose. 

“I did the research, there’s a free slot of the gymnasium on Wednesdays in the evening, it need only be one day a week-” 

“And her_ aether?_” Alphinaud clipped. 

“Will be fine,” Light said, smirking, taking a moment to breathe.

Then, she turned to Alisaie.

“Ok then.” 

Alisaie reeled, taken aback by the response. Light guessed she was expecting resistance to the request, any reason to start an argument.

“O- Okay?” 

“Yes. I’ll do it. Tell me what you want and I shall make it so.” 

“Oh.” Alisaie grunted. “Well I’ll write up a request from me and my classmates and have it to you post haste.” 

The young student straightened up further, still stiff as a board yet staring intensely. She pursed her lips so tightly her mouth was nought but a thin line. 

“Well, I better be off to my next class then.” Alisaie spun on her heel like a mechanical puppet and marched out the door. Alphinaud’s lip quivered in surprise and he yelled his sister’s name. 

White hair darted back into view, a scowl hidden underneath her fringe as she glared at Alphinaud. 

“What is it, dear brother?” 

“At least thank Professor Light!” 

“Oh.” 

Stonily, she stepped back into the doorframe and bowed quickly. 

“Thank you, Professor.” 

“Not at all. Light said. Though pray, I do implore that perhaps next time you come charging to my office, please maybe knock and _wait_ before entering.” 

She went pink, a gradient that teemed across her face like a sunset. 

“Of course. I was just, in the moment… heh, you know me,” the young elezen said thickly. Light caught her giving Aymeric and herself one last glance before ducking away proper. 

Alphinaud, having watched the scene unfurl, turned to look at Light, eyebrows raised as he readied himself to speak to her. 

“_Is_ that such a good idea, given the situation with your aether. I mean, _will_ it be fine?” Alphinaud asked. “That fight with Ser Wyrmblood and the Dravanian-” 

A turn of raven hair and Aymeric, who had been watching the doorway, too looked round to Light, eyebrows raised with concern. 

“Alphinaud has a point, is it such a good idea-” 

Both elezen were looking at her and Light felt a twinge of irritability. 

“Okay no more. I have made my decision and I shall stand by it.” Light said, grabbing Aymeric by the sides, turning him and applying her weight to push him towards Alphinaud, whose neck snaked back in surprise as Light shoved a fully grown man towards him. 

Like a rampant gryphon, Light barreled the two of them towards the door, ignoring their protests of concerns. 

“I will see you both at a later time.” Light said. “Thank you both for your visit and your concern for my well being!”

A bundle of cloaks, books and elezen were ushered out. As they crossed the threshold, Aymeric twisted his torso round. With quick precision his head came down, lips fervently planting a deep kiss upon Light’s cheek. She made a small _oh!_ in surprise for it happened all so fast. 

That crackling, electric feel burned her face again at the contact, as Aymeric bowed to her. 

“Until next time, my lady.” Aymeric said, giving her a transcendent smile, powerful enough to make Light feel like she could fight ten primals at once. Eyes narrow and beautiful gazed at her in a way she lost all ability to breathe for that split second. 

“Until next time, Ser Aymeric,” Light responded, eyes crinkling in heated delight. 

Behind them, Alphinaud made a small noise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello everyone thank you for your patience and here's for more chapters to come! I have had an arc in mind for a while so I'm ngl pretty damn excited to get started on it lol 
> 
> Lemme know your thoughts and feelings below in the comments and once again thank you so so much for reading!!!


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